<      /         N 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


u> 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


KATY  OF   CATOCTIW 


OR 


THE     CHAIN-BREAKERS 


A  NATIONAL  ROMANCE 


GEORGE   ALFRED    TOWNSEND 

"GATH" 

AUTHOR  OF  "the  ENTAILED  HAT,"  "  TALES  OF  THE  CHESAPEAKE,"  ETC. 


"Older  than  the  Shenandoah  mountains  is  love." 

Emerson. 


NEW  YORK 

D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY 

1886 


Copyright,  i8S6, 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY, 


All  rights  reserved. 


TO 

COLONEL    JOHN    HAY, 

WHOSE   ACQUAINTANCE   I   MADE   IN   THE   WHITE   HOUSE, 

WHERE   THE   PRESIDENT   AND   EMANCIPATOR 

LAY  DEAD. 


603285 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/katyofcatoctinorOOtown 


PRE  FACE 


From  the  hour  the  author  stood  by  the  dead  face  of 
Abraham  Lincoln,  in  the  Executive  Mansion  at  Washington, 
he  has  had  the  idea  of  writing  a  romance  upon  the  conspir- 
acy of  Booth. 

Like  many  such  literary  projects  nursed  by  a  journalist, 
this  one  had  not  only  to  be  postponed,  but  finally  to  become 
a  portion  of  a  broader  story,  because  too  many  of  the  actors 
in  the  tragedy  still  lived,  and  the  mere  crime  presented  no 
elevated  moral  to  justify  its  embellishment. 

Considering  it,  however,  as  one  of  a  series  of  cumulative 
acts  of  violence  committed  upon  or  from  the  soil  of  Mary- 
land during  the  conflict  of  Emancipation,  the  author  felt  not 
only  an  epic  propriety  to  be  in  the  theme,  but  it  appealed 
to  him  as  a  descendant  of  Marylanders  and  one  who  had 
already,  in  his  romance  of  "The  Entailed  Hat,"  pictured 
the  twin  lobe  of  Maryland  and  the  rise  of  the  slave  interest. 

The  temptation  to  paint  the  more  picturesque  Western 
Shore,  from  the  old  Catholic  tide- water  counties  and  the  met- 
ropolitan life  of  Washington  and  Baltimore  to  the  German 
valleys  and  the  mountain  battle-fields,  was  not  to  be  dis- 
missed, either  by  the  sacrifice  it  would  require,  or  from  the 
delicacy  of  a  generation  still  alive. 

Experimenting  with  the  subject,  the  author  found  such 
rapid  changes  taking  place  in  all  this  region,  in  thought  as 
well  as  in  things,  that  he  believed  it  would  be  next  to  im- 
possible in  twenty  years  more  for  any  one  to  realize  the  soci- 


6  PREFACE, 

ety  which  came  first  into  national  notice  when  Booth  made 
his  hcgira  through  it.  Besides,  the  author's  stock  of  materi- 
als, made  complete  by  visits  and  searches  of  nineteen  years, 
required  the  interpretation  of  his  own  eye  and  hand. 

He  felt  that,  while  to  have  written  this  book  earlier  would 
have  been  to  speak  too  harshly  and  too  narrowly  of  some 
agents  in  the  crime,  to  postpone  the  composition  longer 
would  have  been  to  remand  it  to  mere  antiquarian  literature 
and  lose  the  missionary  use  and  the  heartiness  of  adventure  ; 
for,  when  he  knew  Booth  personally  and  saw  his  associates 
executed,  the  author  was  turning  into  twenty-five,  and,  when 
he  unraveled  the  skein  of  Booth's  concealment  and  flight 
after  the  crime,  the  author  was  turning  forty-four  years. 
Voters  had  grown  up  in  the  interim  who  had  been  but  tot- 
tling  babes  when  the  mighty  war  ceased  with  this  sacrificial 
mass,  and  the  President's  death  ended  the  wild  Maryland 
epic,  of  which  the  raid  of  John  Brown,  the  Baltimore  riots, 
Antietam  battle,  and  the  spy  system  in  the  old  Potomac 
counties  were  elements. 

Enough  of  all  this  was  yet  undiscovered  to  leave  space 
for  fancy  to  enliven  the  athletic  game,  and  in  one  or  two 
cases  characters  have  been  wholly  invented,  or  rather  made 
out  of  general  types  and  conditions,  to  replace  others  not 
proper  to  be  copied. 

The  author  not  only  lived  contemporary  with  the  per- 
sonages of  his  book,  but  he  was  an  active  traveler  and  sight- 
seer with  and  among  them.  No  natural  scene  is  sketched 
in  this  book  that  did  not  dwell  upon  his  sight,  and  he  trusts 
that  the  impassioned  scenes  of  action  have  been  tinted  in 
subordination  to  a  national  and  human  philosophy. 

Gapland,  Md.,  1886. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

T. 

Mountaineers     .... 

9 

II. 

The  looker  .... 

17 

III. 

Some  old  Dutch 

.       23 

IV. 

Katy  "p'inted" 

28 

V. 

Love  among  the  spooks 

.       39 

VI. 

Dogs  and  hounds    . 

45 

VII. 

Witch  of  Smoketown  . 

•       54 

VIII. 

Beaver  Creek  Dunkers     . 

67 

IX. 

The  sacrament  .... 

.       78 

X. 

Isaac  Smyth's  farm  . 

88 

XI. 

Katy's  accordion 

.       95 

XIT. 

Jayhawkers  .... 

109 

XIII. 

Lloyd's  destiny  changed 

.     121 

XIV. 

Lexington,  not  Concord  . 

128 

XV. 

Dark,  Light,  and  kiss. 

.     136 

XVI. 

The  Suck       .... 

144 

XVII. 

Ashby's  gratitude 

.     160 

XVIII. 

Kagi 

167 

XIX. 

First  cadet  slain 

.     176 

XX. 

Gault  House 

1S2 

XXI. 

Abel  Quantrell 

.     193 

XXII. 

The  Yankee  .... 

210 

XXIII. 

John  Brown's  fort 

.     216 

XXIV. 

The  free-State  line 

231 

XXV. 

Charlestown       .... 

.     243 

XXVI. 

Oath-plight  and  troth-plight    . 

253 

XXVII. 

Know-Nothings  .... 

.     261 

XXVIII. 

New  faces  in  the  valley 

271 

XXIX. 

The  actor           .... 

.     286 

CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

XXX. 
XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 

XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 

XL. 

XLI. 

XLII. 

XLIII. 

XLIV. 

XLV. 

XLVI. 

XLVII. 

XLVIII. 

XLIX. 

L. 

LI. 


John  Brown  executed    . 

Disintegration 

Stray  ends 

Love's  fierce  probation 

The  old  slave  counties 

Rebellion 

Crescite  et  multiplicamini 

"  Tick-a-tock-a  ! " 

Puritan,  Jesuit,  and  German 

Lloyd's  hunting-park 

Instigation 

Grass  widows  . 

Legitimate  drama 

The  abduction  plot  . 

The  band    . 

Assassination   . 

Flight  of  spies     . 

Payj^e     . 

In  the  short  pines 

The  return 

Death  of  Booth  . 

Emigravit 


PACK 

297 

•  311 
324 

•  339 
355 

•  365 
380 

.  392 

404 
.  415 

429 
.  441 

452 
.  463 

475 
.  490 

504 
.  512 

523 
.  536 

546 

•  555 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


CHAPTER   I. 
MOUNTAINEERS. 

"  Maryland  is  only  a  rim  of  shore,  a  shell  of  mountain,  but  all 
gold ! " 

So  said  Lloyd  Quantrell,  the  gunner,  looking  down  from  the 
South  Mountain  upon  Middletown  or  Catoctin  Valley,  an  October 
Saturday  in  the  year  1859. 

The  mellow  light  of  afternoon  touched  or  bathed  the  hundred 
farms,  the  bridges,  bams,  hamlets,  stacks,  corn-rows,  brown  woods, 
streams  and  stone  walls,  and  with  a  fruity  smell,  as  of  cider-presses, 
seemed  to  come  up  the  tone  of  bells  ringing  the  Marylanders  home 
from  the  labors  of  the  week. 

He  saw  the  red  and  white  spires  of  Middletown  in  the  lap  of  the 
valley  like  its  babe,  and  thought  he  saw,  beyond  its  Catoctin  Mount- 
ain knees,  the  father  Frederick,  the  good  old  burgher,  holding  his 
devout  fingers  up,  like  index  boards  at  the  junction  of  his  many  pike 
roads. 

Then  fancy  spread  other  terraces  of  Mar^'land,  farther  and  far- 
ther on,  like  descending  steps  of  gold  and  marble,  beyond  the  hills 
of  Sugarloaf  and  Linganore,  to  where  Potomac  and  Patapsco  blended 
their  cascades  and  ocean-tides  at  the  shrines  of  Washington  and 
Baltimore. 

Lloyd  Quantrell's  dog  put  his  nose  in  the  air  silently,  looking 
also  downward,  as  if  he  scented,  with  the  pheasants  of  the  mount- 
ain, the  sea-fowl  of  the  Chesapeake. 

A  train  of  cars  was  crossing  the  mouth  of  Catoctin  Valley  from 
the  dark  chasm  of  Harper's  Ferry,  as  the  dog  started  back  along 


10 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


the  mountain-top,  "  pointing  "  for  a  bird  ;  and  when  Lloyd  had  fol- 
lowed and  fired  at  and  missed  the  bird,  he  saw  another  view  in  the 
west,  all  flooded  with  the  sunset— the  plateau  between  the  Antietam 
and  Potomac,  stretching  in  woodland  or  cr^'Stal  to  the  North  Mount- 
ain and  the  Conococheague. 

Here,  amid  equal  abundance,  a  wilder  paradise  extended,  as  if 
nature's  ruggedness  had  somewhat  delayed  the  gardener  hands  of 
man. 

Beneath  Ouantrell's  eye,  to  the  left,  a  short,  bold  mountain  in- 
truded, which  had  begun  a  race  with  the  South  Mountain  for  the 
Pennsylvania  line,  but  stopped  in  sight  of  the  white  clusters  of  set- 
tlement toward  Hagerstown,  discouraged  at  their  beauty  and  multi- 
tude, like  Balaam's  stride  arrested  by  the  Hebrew  camps. 

Between  this.  Elk  Ridge  (or  Maryland  Heights)  Mountain,  and 
his  own,  and  in  the  narrow  peninsula  beyond,  where  the  Potomac 
begged  a  passage  to  the  Shenandoah,  a  few  wild  farms  found  lodg- 
ment, as  if  poor,  fugitive,  and  hermit  men  had  clung  there  to  a  fun- 
nel, and  now  their  white  log  and  plaster  houses  and  decayed  black 
barns,  in  the  midst  of  small  mountain  orchards,  sent  up  to  Ouantrell 
light  spirals  of  smoke,  or  flame  of  burning  brushwood,  or  bells  of 
milch-cows  tinkling  in  alder-copses. 

Where  these  wild  homes  and  startled  spurs  of  mountain  halted, 
the  basin  of  the  great  Cumberland  Valley  fell  away  indistinctly,  and 
Keedysville  lay  in  the  foreground,  like  a  bunch  of  the  American 
flag. 

The  colors  in  the  landscape  were  gold,  purple,  chrome,  and  all 
varieties  of  autumnal  blue  and  gray,  and,  as  if  they  were  mixed  in  a 
cup,  the  young  Baltimore  sportsman  drank  them  in  and  pined  to 
understand  the  delight :  for  the  love  of  scenery  yearns  to  become  an 
art. 

In  all  this  patriotic  prospect  there  w^as  no  responsive  heart,  ajid 
Lloyd  Quantrell  was  still  unbeloved. 

New  pulses  had  beat  of  late  in  him,  and,  like  the  hair  upon  his  lip, 
sentiment  had  begun  to  grow :  the  idea  of  woman  followed  him 
about — of  no  one  woman  but  of  womankind,  and  in  this  glowing 
Eden  of  his  native  State  the  scenery  seemed  to  lack  a  sympathetic 
spirit  to  reach  up  her  white  arms  from  the  vale  and  cry :  "  Come 
down,  my  love,  appointed  for  me ;  and  I  will  make  thy  soul  at  rest, 
to  enjoy  every  prospect,  which,  lonely,  thou  never  canst ! " 

Beautiful,   detached   time   of  life !   when,   like   a   mote   of   the 


MO  UN  TA INEERS.  1 1 

Italian  poplar's  pollen  blowing  in  the  air  to  find  the  female  cup,  the 
souls  of  two  young,  destined  people,  yet  unknown,  solicit  each  other 
in  the  world. 

The  crude,  destructive  instincts  of  the  young  man  were  expressed 
aloud  in  his  emotion  between  savagery  and  art : 

"  What  would  I  do  if  all  this  was  mine,  on  both  sides  of  the 
mountain  ?  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  said.  "  Let  me  see  !  Why,  I  would 
clean  out  the  whole  region,  like  a  Norman  king,  and  make  it  a  hunt- 
ing park.  All  the  wild  beasts  once  here  should  return  again — none 
but  native  American  beasts,  you  bet !  I  would  let  them  make  their 
dens  and  shelters  in  these  towns.  The  people  would  have  to  go- 
go  West,  I  suppose — and  then  these  stone,  brick,  and  timber  villages 
would  decay,  and  we  should  have  real  American  ruins  in  a  few 
years.  Too  many  Dutch  are  in  this  up-country  for  me !  Instead 
of  a  lot  of  Dutchmen  going  to  Baltimore  market,  we  should  have 
hunters  sending  down  deer  and  bear.  I  would  bring  the  buffaloes 
back  from  the  West — for  they  used  to  herd  here  too,  in  the  early 
day — and  let  them  make  dust,  like  an  army,  as  they  galloped  be- 
fore my  hunters.  The  wolf  should  howl  again,  to  make  the  mount- 
ains romantic.  I  would  have  grizzlies  hug  each  other,  panthers 
sneak  away  and  prowl  nearer  again,  and  foxes  should  be  protected, 
so  that  every  day  would  be  a  morning  chase.  My  castle  I  would 
put  on  the  South  Mountain,  right  here  where  I  stand." 

He  stopped,  thinking  what  would  a  castle  be  without  a  lady. 
But  in  a  minute  his  mind  ran  along  with  the  vision  : 

*'  I  think,"  he  resumed,  "  that  I  would  not  disturb  the  Dutch 
beauties,  for  I  would  need  a  few  vassals,  and,  to  reconcile  these  and 
give  me  society,  I  might  mairy  one  of  them.  Yes,  she  should  be 
the  rosiest  of  all.  I  would  educate  her  and  make  her  my  baroness ; 
Baroness  of  the  Blue  Ridge." 

As  his  thoughts,  like  the  predatory  hawk,  flew  back  to  a  domes- 
tic nest  and  mate,  Lloyd  basked  a  moment  in  the  soft,  languorous 
vision  of  a  settlement  in  life,  till  the  dog  whined  and  pointed,  and, 
looking  where  it  indicated,  the  gunner  saw,  in  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
a  few  steps  distant,  a  strange,  primitive  old  man,  accompanied  by 
two  young  companions,  watching  him. 

The  apparition  was  more  lean  than  tall,  and  dressed  in  dark 
woolens,  cut  almost  Quaker  fashion,  and  his  waistcoat  was  but- 
toned nearly  up  to  a  leather  stock  around  the  tough  whip-cords  in 
his  throat,  which  were  revealed  when  he  took  his  bushy  gray  beard 


J  2  A'ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 

in  one  hand  and  drew  it  aside,  looking  meantime  at  young  Quantrell 
with  a  pair  of  severe,  gray-blue  eyes. 

The  intruder's  hair  was  brushed  straight  up  from  a  rather  low, 
receding  forehead.  He  had  a  hawkish  nose,  and  the  beard  which 
encircled  his  face,  and  would  have  fallen  low  upon  his  breast,  stood 
outward  at  his  chin  like  autumn  brush  against  a  rock. 

"  If  this  is  your  land,  you  don't  mind  my  gunning  on  it }  "  spoke 
Quantrell. 

"  It  is  not  my  land,  sir,"  answered  the  man,  not  finishing  his 
searching  look. 

"  Then  I  don't  see  why  you  look  at  me  so  hard,  friend,  unless  I 
have  stolen  something." 

"  Are  you  from  Virginia  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  No,  I  am  from  Mar>-land — from  Baltimore." 

"  You  have  been  walking  around  this  country  three  days  !  " 

"  There's  no  law  against  that,  old  man.  I  have  been  shooting, 
what  little  there  is,  and  picking  a  few  fish  out  of  the  brooks.  Have 
you  been  following  me  all  the  time  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  you  around  my  dwelling,  sir,  on  two  occasions, 
yesterday  and  the  day  before,"  continued  the  mountaineer,  "and 
you  are  here  still." 

"  Upon  my  word,  friend,  I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  pass  your 
dwelling  every  day  of  my  holiday  here,  particularly  as  I  don't  know 
where  it  is  !  " 

An  idea  crossed  Lloyd  Quantrell's  mind  that  there  might  be 
robbers  in  these  mountains,  and  he  gave  a  glance  at  the  two  other 
men. 

They  were  young  fellows,  and,  in  appearance,  were  so  nearly 
the  same,  that  observing  one,  answered  for  both  ;  of  good  height, 
spare-faced  and  sunburned,  sallow,  worn  thin,  and  with  long,  dark 
hair  and  beards ;  mere  rustics  to  look  at,  with  some  passing  alert- 
ness of' curiosity  now,  but  too  docile  and  gentle  to  retain  a  preda- 
tory purpose. 

This  time  Lloyd  Quantrell  guessed  that  they  might  be  an  old 
preacher  and  his  two  sons,  of  Mennonite,  or  Dunker,  or  some  mount- 
ain Dutch  sect.  But  the  nasal  tone  of  the  old  man,  and  his  bold, 
grave  address,  made  Lloyd  think  again  that  he  had  seen  such  men 
bringing  horses  to  Baltimore  market  from  Ohio  and  the  West. 

The  only  sign  of  offensive  warfare  they  possessed  was  a  kind  of 
spear  of  steel,  like  a  broad,  double-edged  knife-blade,  with  a  cross- 


MO  UNTAINEERS.  1 3 

piece  or  guard  below,  and  carried  upon  a  wooden  pole  by  one  of 
the  younger  persons. 

"  What  have  you  there,  my  friend  ?  "  asked  Quantrell,  walking 
over  freshly.  "It  looks  like  what  we  called  at  school  'a  gig,' to 
spear  suckers  and  pike." 

"  I  calkelate  you  hit  it  right  the  first  time,"  said  the  possessor, 
smiling  agreeably. 

"  We  live  over  beyond  the  Short  Mountain  there,"  explained  the 
other  young  man ;  "  down  on  the  river  road  to  the  ferry.  Since 
we've  been  here,  so  few  well-dressed  strangers  have  gone  past,  that 
father  was  a  little  surprised  at  you — that's  all." 

"Then  we  are  all  Marylanders,"  exclaimed  Quantrell,  "and  I'm 
glad  of  that,  because  I  have  been  lonesome  for  somebody  to  drink 
with  me.  Here's  a  flask  of  old  Needwood  whisky,  I  know  I  can 
recommend  !     Age  before  beauty,  pop  !  " 

He  extended  the  flask  to  the  old  man  and  winked  at  the  boys. 

"It's  something  I  never  drank,  sir,  in  my  life,"  spoke  the  firm 
old  man,  shaking  his  head. 

Lloyd  then  turned  to  the  boys. 

"  We're  not  accustomed  to  it,  friend,"  said  the  elder  of  these, 
"but  don't  let  us  interfere  with  j^«." 

Quantrell  drank,  and  liked  it  so  well  that  he  drank  twice,  and 
then,  laying  down  his  gun  and  calling  in  his  dog,  he  felt  familiar 
and  companionable  with  all  men.  He  produced  cigars  and  a  fuse, 
and  offered  his  cigar-case  to  the  party. 

"  We're  unfortunate,"  said  the  younger  of  the  sons ;  "  neither 
father  nor  we  boys  smoke,  or  use  tobacco." 

"  Sit  down,  anyway,"  said  the  young  man  from  the  city  ;  "  there's 
the  habit  of  talk,  that  is  common  to  all.  What  is  your  name .? — 
Smith  will  do;  anything  to  begin  on." 

"You're  a  good  guesser.  Smith  is  what  it  is,"  spoke  the  old 
man,  taking  off  his  wool  hat  and  stretching  himself  on  the  rocks 
and  grass.     "  Isaac  Smith — and  yours  }  " 

"  Quantrell,  of  Baltimore." 

"Ah  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Smith,  "that' is  the  name  of  one  of  the 
slave-dealers  there  ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lloyd,  reddening  a  little,  "  that's  unfortunately  an 
uncle  of  mine.  He's  managed,  by  the  notoriety  of  the  business,  to 
have  me  identified  pretty  generally.  It's  a  business  I  shouldn't  go 
into — because  it's  not  a  gentleman's." 


14 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


The  young  men,  as  if  interested,  now  stretched  themselves  on 
the  mountain-slope,  and  the  older  man,  changing  his  look  to  one 
more  neighborly,  said,  in  an  impressive  yet  kind  voice : 

"  Hardly  a  good  Christian  business,  Mr.  Quantrell !  A  business 
has  got  to  be  good,  I  think,  sir,  to  insure  any  prosperity.  If  nobody 
could  be  found  to  trade  in  slaves,  the  evils  of  slavery  would  be 
small,  because  they  would  not  be  sent  to  great  distances  and  worked 
up  on  the  plantations.  It  would  then  not  be  profitable.  Slavery 
in  Maryland,  except  in  two  or  three  counties,  is  a  trifling  mat- 
ter." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lloyd,  "  it's  small,  except  in  the  tobacco  counties, 
and  they,  as  you  have  said,  don't  seem  to  prosper.  But  I  hope  you 
ain't  an  abolitionist,  Mr.  Smith  ?  " 

"  Unfortunately,  I  am  a  slaveholder,"  said  Smith,  straightfor- 
wardly, 

"  How  many  negroes  have  you  got  ?  " 

"  Six." 

"  Why,  pop,"  answered  Lloyd,  familiarly,  "  you're  a  man  of 
property  !    What  are  negroes  worth,  up  this  way  ?  " 

'•  They're  higher  than  they  will  be,  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Smith,  re- 
flectively. 

Quantrell  looked  at  the  old  man's  Judaic  nose  and  wrinkled 
bridge  thereof,  and  wad  of  grizzly  hair  above  his  grizzled,  updrawn 
eyebrows,  with  the  gray-blue  eyes  wide  apart,  cool  and  deep  as 
frozen  springs,  and  that  mouth,  which  was  like  a  fissure  in  granite, 
and  again  it  seemed  to  the  young  man  that  there  was  something 
wild  in  Mr.  Smith. 

"  Yet,"  he  reflected,  "  Smith  is  a  man  more  substantial  every 
way  than  he  looks.  Six  negroes  and  a  farm,  and  reasoning  so  ra- 
tionally against  his  interests — and  with  religious  views,  too  ! " 

"  What  are  your  politics.  Smith  ?  "  asked  Lloyd.  "  I'll  be  frank 
with  you,  and  tell  you,  I'm  an  American." 

"  Why,  so  am  I,  Mr.  Quantrell !  " 

"  Shake  hands  on  it,  old  fellow,"  cried  Lloyd,  while  the  sons 
laughed  aloud  to  see  the  city  stranger's  open  temperament  pushing 
the  acquaintance. 

"  I'm  just  keyed  up  on  that,"  repeated  Lloyd,  clasping  Mr, 
Smith's  hands  heartily,  "for  there  are  too  many  Dutch  and  Irish  in 
this,  our  country.  Down  in  Baltimore  we  have  got  them  on  the 
run.     I'm  a  cock-robin  !  " 


MO  UNTAINEERS. 


15 


"  I  don't  quite  understand  you,  Mr.  Ouantrell.  Is  that  a  kind  of 
fire  company  or  political  club  ?  " 

"  You've  got  it,  Smith  !  On  every  suitable  occasion  we  turn  out 
and  have  a  parade,  and  go  right  through  the  foreign  quarter,  driv- 
ing everything  we  see  under  cover.  Our  idea  is  that  Americans 
are  good  enough  to  rule  America !  " 

Mr.  Smith  reflected  a  minute,  and  said  that  good  Americans 
ought  to  make  the  best  rulers.  "However,"  he  added,  "  Senator 
Broderick,  of  California,  was  an  Irishman,  I  believe,  and  he  has  just 
been  murdered,  in  a  duel." 

"  Well,  he's  an  Irishman's  son,"  replied  Lloyd  ;  "  he  was  bom 
on  the  Potomac  here,  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  and  that's  almost 
as  good  as  Maryland." 

•'  They  killed  him,"  figured  up  Mr.  Smith,  in  his  deliberate,  nasal 
way,  "on  the  1 8th  of  last  month.  It  will  be  four  weeks  to-morrow 
night,  Mr.  Quantrell." 

At  this,  the  plain,  independent  old  man,  as  Lloyd  began  to 
think  him,  looked  at  his  two  sons,  and  they  raised  their  eyes  to 
him. 

"  Next  Sunday  night  will  be  four  v\-eeks,"  repeated  Mr.  Smith, 
still  looking  at  his  boys,  "  since  David  Broderick  was  killed  by  a 
judge,  in  a  duel.  The  newspapers  say  his  last  dying  words  were, 
'  They  killed  me  because  I  was  opposed  to  the  extension  of  slaveiy 
and  a  corrupt  Administration.'  " 

There  was  a  look  of  queer  import,  Lloyd  Ouantrell  thought,  be- 
tween those  plain  people ;  for,  as  if  forgetful  of  himself,  they  contin- 
ued observing  each  other  with  a  sense  of  some  strong  coincidence. 

At  this  moment  Ouantrell's  dog  started  and  ran  a  little  way  down 
the  mountain  and  "  pointed  "at  some  low  saplings  with  his  fine  white 
and  brown  nose. 

Lloyd  took  his  gun  and  followed  out  of  sight  of  his  new  compan- 
ions, and  finally  saw  a  mourning-dove  sitting  in  a  leafless  tree.  He 
raised  his  piece  and  aimed,  feeling  it  unworthy  work  to  shoot  a  turtle- 
dove, but  as  he  withdrew  the  gun  his  dog  still  "  pointed,"  as  if  rav- 
enous after  the  day's  barren  sport, 

Ouantrell  waved  his  hand,  intimating  to  the  trained  animal  to 
seek  to  the  right  and  farther  on. 

The  dog,  for  a  minute,  obeyed  the  order,  and  then  returned,  and, 
with  tail  straight  out  and  one  leg  lifted,  "  nosed  "  the  solitary  dove 
again  and  made  a  slight,  whimpering  entreaty. 


1 5  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  Well,  Albion,"  thought  his  master,  "  I  must  either  disappoint 
you  or  the  dove,"  and  he  aimed  again  and  shot  the  bird. 

It  was  so  soft-eyed  and  so  harmless,  and  seemed  to  look  with 
such  love  and  suffering  at  him  as  it  trembled  in  his  hand  in  the 
convulsion  of  death,  the  red  rill  of  blood  making  purpler  its  brown 
plumage— like  the  blood  of  Abel  sinking  in  the  ground— that  Lloyd 
felt  some  self-accusation. 

With  the  dead  bird  in  his  hand  he  walked  back  toward  the  place 
of  conversation,  where  he  was  arrested  at  a  cedar-tree  by  the  singu- 
lar posture  of  Smith  and  his  sons. 

The  old  man  was  standing  with  his  hands  stretched  straight  out 
and  their  palms  together,  his  body  drawn  up  and  his  beard  pointing 
upward,  as  his  head  was  thrown  back ;  while  his  sons,  still  seated, 
had  crawled  nearer  their  father,  and  had  dropped  their  beards,  as  if 
assisting  in  prayer. 

In  the  greatest  wonder,  Lloyd  Quantrell  looked  at  this  scene,  and 
for  a  minute  doubted,  as  is  natural  with  all  men  in  a  very  practical 
land,  seeing  silent  human  marvels  in  lonely  places,  whether  he  saw 
anything  at  all ;  if  the  mountain  at  this  point  were  not  enchanted, 
and  these  three  serious  mountaineers  only  appearances  or  illusions. 

But  he  heard  articulated  sounds  proceeding  from  that  old  man's 
beard,  and  the  word  "Amen  !"  pronounced  with  respectful  inclina- 
tions of  their  heads,  by  both  his  tough,  grown  sons. 

A  new  feeling  then  suddenly  rose  upon  young  Ouantrell's  imagi- 
nation ;  for  the  first  time  he  had  a  sense  of  parental  influence,  some- 
thing he  had  never  known — confidence,  consultation,  and  parental 
respect  and  discipline  between  a  father  and  sons. 

Before  him  was  such  a  scene :  absolute  community  of  thought, 
directed  by  a  strong-willed,  plain-hearted  father,  who  held  his  ma- 
tured sons  in  the  leash  of  his  integrity  and  morality,  till  they  loved 
his  magistracy,  and  were  like  women  to  his  counsel  and  authority. 

"  Such  sons  exist  no  more  where  I  have  been,"  thought  Lloyd, 
"  at  least  not  in  the  life  I  have  seen.  There  the  restraint  of  sons  is 
broken  by  their  waywardness  and  rebellion  in  early  boyhood,  even  if 
their  fathers  desire  to  control  them,  or  are  worthy  to  do  so." 

He  thought  of  his  own  self-loving  father,  without  moral  restraints 
himself,  or  ever  a  rebuke  for  his  son's  indulgences. 

At  the  crackle  of  his  approaching  feet  the  old  man.  Smith,  and 
his  boys  ceased  their  apparent  devotion  and  turned  their  heads. 

"iMr.  Quantrell,"  spoke  the  old  man,  again  examining  Lloyd 


THE  LOOKER. 


17 


piercingly,  "  we  do  a  little  surveying  on  the  mountains,  and  that  is 
why  we  found  you  in  this  unexpected  spot.  They  tell  me,  sir,  who 
have  lived  here  longer  than  I  have,  that  General  Washington  was 
the  first  surveyor  of  these  parts,  and  surveyed  Harper's  Ferry  tract 
itself.     But  what  have  you  been  killing  }  " 

He  took  in  his  hand  the  little  bird,  and  looked  at  Lloyd  as  he  had 
at  first,  with  a  severe,  almost  domineering  examination,  and  tight 
jaws. 

"  I  have  no  respect  for  any  man  who  will  shoot  a  little  dove,"  he 
remarked,  in  a  cold,  reproving  tone. 

His  sons  also  looked  rebuke,  and  one  of  them  said ; 

"  Mr.  Quantrell,  that  wasn't  fair  game !  " 

"  No,  I  am  ashamed  of  it,"  spoke  Lloyd  Quantrell,  frankly.  "  My 
dog  pointed  so  obstinately  that  I  killed  the  poor  thing  against  my 
better  will." 

"  I  will  forgive  you,  young  man,"  exclaimed  Smith,  the  elder, 
"  on  condition  that,  if  you  ever  see  a  man  going  to  kill  another  dove, 
you  will  reprove  him,  sir." 

"  I  will,"  said  Lloyd,  blushing,  "  unless  he  already  feels  as  mean 
as  I  do." 

"  Father,"  interposed  the  younger  Smith,  "  it  was  an  accident,  I 
calkelate.  He's  owmed  it  like  a  man.  Let  us  show  him  our  favor//^ 
view  of  the  valleys." 

They  looked  again  over  the  Catoctin  Valley,  and  also  at  the 
Hagerstown  Valley,  both  softer,  paler  in  the  descending  sunlight. 

It  seemed  to  Lloyd,  when  he  recalled  these  scenes  in  later  years, 
as  if  that  sunset  was  the  last  vouchsafed  the  world  of  heavenly  peace 
and  blessing. 


CHAPTER   H. 

THE  LOOKER. 

"Friend  Smith,"  exclaimed  Lloyd  Quantrell,  "I  was  thinking 
to  myself,  just  before  we  met,  that  if  this  high  country  of  the  Cum- 
berland Valley,  and  the  apron  of  it  off  here  to  the  east,  were  all  my 
property,  I  would  make  it  a  great  baronial  park,  and  stock  it  with 
nothing  but  American  game  collected  from  every  State  and  Territory 
— a  sort  of  Forest  of  Ardennes." 


jg  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Quantrell,  who  was  a  good  singer,  and  of  an  unrestrained,  hearty 
temperament,  here  recollected  a  bit  of  song,  and  without  any  cere- 
mony raised  his  voice  and  sang,  to  the  delight  of  Smith's  boys  : 

"  '  Under  the  greenwood  tree, 

Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 

And  tune  his  meriy  note 

Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat, 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither  : 

Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy, 
But  winter  and  rough  weather.' 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  cried  Lloyd,  when  he  had  ended,  his  melodious 
voice  humanizing  the  place,  and  seeming  to  touch  the  younger  son, 
whom  the  old  man  had  addressed  as  Oliver,  almost  to  tears,  "  that's 
a  song  a  friend  of  mine,  a  great  young  actor,  sings  like  a  real  hunter. 
Now,  if  you  and  I  and  the  boys  here  had  control  of  this,  we'd  live 
like  banished  dukes.     Is  that  your  sentiment,  Oliver  ?  " 

The  young  man  with  the  sallow  face  and  modest,  sunken  eyes, 
and  careless  hair  and  beard,  put  his  brown  hand  to  his  throat, 
where  there  was  a  rising  swelling,  and  said :  "  I  think  it  is  beautiful 
as  it  is.  One  log-house  and— and  my  wife,  would  be  enough  for 
me." 

The  old  man,  with  a  firm  voice,  interposed,  glancing  seriously  at 
the  son's  evident  susceptibihty  to  the  song  and  the  question. 

"  This  is  pretty  scenery,  gentlemen,  and  rich  country,"  he  said, 
in  a  high,  shrill  tone,  "  and  it  delights  the  eye ;  but  it  fails  to  appeal 
to  the  mind,  for  the  reason  that  history  has  not  yet  embellished  it. 
Its  great  uses  have  not  yet  been  perceived,  I  think.  To  grow  grain 
and  make  butter  and  cheese,  are  agreeable  to  man  ;  but  even  so 
fine  a  region  as  this  can  not  compete  with  the  great  West  in  those 
respects — with  Illinois,  Iowa,  and  the  Territory  of  Kansas.  The 
political  importance  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains  far  exceeds  their 
agricultural  importance.  If  I  had  been  General  Washington,  and 
had  his  influence  to  locate  the  capital  of  the  United  States,  I  would 
have  placed  it  behind  the  South  Mountain,  instead  of  in  the  clay 
gullies  of  the  tide-water  country." 

"  O  friend  Smith,"  cried  Lloyd  Quantrell,  "  there  are  too  many 
Dutch  up  this  way.  They  don't  know  anything  in  the  Dutch  coun- 
try but  saving  and  slaving,  and  that  would  never  do." 


THE  LOOKER. 


19 


"  But  hear  father  out,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  elder  son.  "  He's  been 
a  great  reader  and  traveler.     Father's  been  to  Europe  !  " 

It  was  not  common  in  1859  to  have  "  been  to  Europe,"  and  even 
the  young  Baltimorean  looked  at  Smith  with  new  interest. 

The  old  man  pointed  over  the  valley  with  long  fingers,  his 
shoulders  stooping  a  little,  and  his  retreating  forehead,  hollow  in 
the  center,  assisting  the  hawkness  of  his  nose. 

Lines  of  thought  and  an  abstracted  countenance  marked  his 
face  while  moving  up  and  down  and  consulting  the  ground,  but 
when  he  faced  Lloyd  Quantrell  and  his  own  sons,  and  gave  them  the 
full  benefit  of  his  steady  and  penetrating  eyes,  they  felt  that  the 
narrow-shouldered,  wiry  old  fellow  must  be  a  tall  man. 

He  now  took  his  beard  in  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  pointing 
over  the  autumnal-tinted  plain  and  detached  mountains,  gazed  out 
like  some  Hebrew  seer. 

"  You  want  your  political  capital,  gentlemen,  where  it  has  natu- 
ral defenses  against  a  military  enemy,  such  as  mountains  interpose, 
and  has  population  and  agriculture  enough  to  feed  and  defend 
it.  and  is  also  in  a  position  to  exert  all  its  political  influence 
with  what  I  will  call  geographical  directness  on  the  country.  The 
city  of  Washington  can  do  nothing  of  that  kind.  It  was  easily 
taken  and  destroyed  by  a  small  army  in  the  year  18 14.  Before  it 
was  established  the  people  in  its  vicinity  were  getting  their  food 
from  these  German  upland  valleys.  It  has  now  no  political  influ- 
ence at  all,  except  a  pernicious  one,  on  the  American  people,  having 
been  governed  for  sixty  years  by  the  local  ideas  of  two  places — 
Richmond  in  Virginia  and  Baltimore  in  Maryland.  Those  cities 
were  bound  to  influence  it  in  the  line  of  their  very  backward,  or,  as 
some  say,  conservative  tendencies,  because  they  received  no  other 
elements  of  population  that  lived  around  them  in  the  old  tide-water 
parts — people  who  continued  to  raise  tobacco,  catch  herring,  sell 
negroes,  and  marry  their  cousins.  On  the  other  hand,  the  country 
above  the  South  Mountain  ridge  could  subsist  a  very  large  popula- 
tion, and  feed  a  large  army,  during  repeated  years  of  war.  This 
mountain,  with  its  natural  ramparts,  could  be  easily  held  by  a  few 
troops  at  the  passes.  The  great  valley  behind  it  is  the  line  of  emi- 
gration and  of  easy  communication  from  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the 
Mississippi,  and,  gentlemen,  the  inevitable  line  of  war  !  " 

Without  paying  attention  to  anybody.  Smith  reached  out  his 
hand  and  took  the  spear  instrument  from  his  son,  and,  gesturing 


20 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


with  it  against  the  blue  air,  looked  to  Quantrell  to  be  a  colossal  and 
seedy  school-master,  illustrating  a  lecture  on  an  enormous  black- 
board. 

"  It  will  cost  more  fighting  men  than  can  be  levied  from  all  that 
tide-water  country,"  he  continued,  "  merely  to  protect  the  govern- 
ment and  the  public  property  located  at  the  city  of  Washington.  If 
the  capital  had  been  placed  here,  in  the  Cumberland  Valley,  it 
would  have  been  able  to  launch  armies  against  the  enemy  and  pro- 
tect itself  from  a  perpetually  flanking  second  army,  moving  up  the 
valley  and  getting  to  the  north  of  Washington.  Here  w-ill  the 
enemy  invade  once  and  again,  and  have  the  start  in  the  race,  and  be 
deep  in  the  resources  and  positions  of  your  country  before  you  can 
come  up  with  him  and  make  him  turn  and  fight.  I  would  remove 
the  public  effects  from  Washington.  I  would  hold  Baltimore  to 
her  allegiance  by  Fortress  Monroe.  I  would  take  the  valley  of  the 
Cumberland  Mountains  from  them  at  the  beginning,  leaving  them 
to  scratch  clay  and  eat  fodder  on  the  emaciated  plains,  and  I  would 
fight  them  from  the  west !  " 

"  Crazy  as  a  bedbug,"  thought  Lloyd  Quantrell,  a  little  awed, 
"and  on  the  subject  of  the  Revolutionary  War." 

Sticking  the  fish-spear  in  the  sward  and  apostrophizing  it,  Mr. 
Smith,  now  apparently  aroused  and  in  the  depth  of  his  subject,  con- 
tinued in  the  same  plain,  brief  style  of  address : 

"  This  is  why  God  has  established  the  Alleghany  Mountains — 
for  the  refuge  of  his  people !  The  geologist  tells  us  that  the  first 
mountains  in  the  world  to  be  made  were  the  Adirondacks.  My 
schooling  was  all  before  these  days  of  science,  and  I  don't  just 
quite  get  the  idea.  But  if  it  be  so,  that  the  first  land  to  rise  above 
the  sea  and  give  the  raven  foothold  after  the  deluge  was  there, 
where  our  household  affections  look  to-day  "  (he  glanced  at  his  sons), 
"  even  upon  that  Ararat,  I  was  always  thinking  of  my  boyhood, 
when  I  was  a  tanner  on  these  AUeghanies. 

"Yes,"  resumed  Isaac  Smith,  after  a  pause,  "  in  the  year  1826  I 
was  tanning  leather  near  the  spot  Vv^here  General  Washington — at 
your  ages  now,  and  my  age  when  I  lived  there — went  on  his  long 
winter  journey  to  stop  the  French  at  old  Fort  Le  Boeuf.  I  used  to 
look  at  the  creek  that  supplied  my  vats,  and  wish  I  could  follow  it 
down  to  the  Venango  and  the  Alleghany,  and  ascend  Washington's 
path  by  the  Monongahela  to  the  mountains  and  cross  them  to  the 
Potomac.     I  married  there,  and  the  desire  of  money  arrested  my 


THE  LOOKER.  21 

dreams ;  but  every  energy  I  put  out  in  that  direction  failed.  At 
times  great  fortunes  seemed  within  my  grasp,  but  slipped  from  me. 
In  Europe,  where  I  went  for  business,  I  found  my  mind  led  to  bat- 
tle-fields and  the  study  of  war.  I  tried  to  drive  the  idea  away,  and 
regain  my  credit  in  the  business  of  all  my  maturer  life — grading  and 
selling  wool ;  for  I  could  tell  the  difference  in  similar  wools  raised 
in  different  of  our  States  if  they  were  put  in  my  hand  in  the  dark ! 
But  the  confused  verses  of  Scripture  would  rise  in  my  mind  when- 
ever I  heard  the  military  trumpets  sound  abroad  :  '  He  seeketh  wool 
and  worketh  willingly,  but  all  his  household  are  clothed  in  scar- 
let!'" 

"And  now,  old  man,"  exclaimed  the  irreverent  Ouantrell,  "you 
think  you  are  at  last  back  in  a  good  country  !  " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Quantrell,"  said  Isaac  Smith,  soberly,  "I  am  in  the 
country  of  my  destiny.  I  love  this  country,  and  hope  it  may  be 
loved  for  me  and  my  children." 

"  You  have  made  one  mourner  in  advance,  pop,"  answered  Lloyd. 
"  I  think  you  only  need  to  have  been  bom  in  a  military  age  to  have 
reached  the  consideration  of  Sam  Houston  or  General  Jackson.  But, 
unfortunately,  you  could  no  more  get  these  Dutch,  up  this  way,  to 
fight  than  teach  them  style." 

"We  never  can  tell,  gentlemen,"  said  Smith,  "when  war  is,  as 
you  may  say,  at  our  elbow.  I  have  been  a  great  reader  of  the  his- 
tory of  wars,  particularly  in  the  Old  Testament.  Most  of  the  wars 
there  recorded,  were  made  by  Moses,  acting  out  the  will  of  God.  He 
led  the  Hebrews  out  of  their  bondage  in  Egypt  and  toward  a  land 
of  promise.  The  people  in  that  land,  we  may  understand,  had  done 
no  harm  to  Moses  or  his  people.  They  existed  as  peaceably  as  the 
people  of  Virginia  and  Maryland,  that  we  see  from  this  elevation — 
working  for  the  dollar  and  expecting  no  enemy  whatever.  But 
Moses,  who  was  keeping  his  flocks  on  the  back  side  of  the  desert, 
as  we  read,  'went  out  on  the  mountain  of  God,  even  to  Horeb,'  say 
the  Scriptures.  Something  took  him  there  not  in  the  way  of  inter- 
est, perhaps  not  his  desire.  But  there  he  heard  his  name  called 
aloud  from  a  burning  bush,  or  heap  of  brush — '  Moses,  Moses ! ' 
And  he  said,  '  Here  am  I ! '  " 

Lloyd  Quantrell  was  again  convinced  that  the  Smith  family  were 
crazy. 

As  he  recited  this  old  bit  of  Scripture,  with  a  slow,  shrill,  nasal 
cry,  Isaac  Smith  folded  his  arms,  closed  his  eyes,  and  dropped  his 


22 


KATY   OF  CATOCTIX 


head  upon  his  beard  and  breast,  standing  there  a  moment  speech- 
less, and  his  sons,  also  taking  his  attitude,  looked  to  the  ground  as  if 
all  three  were  again  to  pray  together. 

"  '  Here  am  I,  Lord,  on  thy  mountain  ! '  "  repeated  Isaac  Smith 
with  rising  inflection,  unfolding  his  arms  and  stretching  them  wide. 
His  strong  jaws  closed  a  moment,  as  he  slowly  turned  his  head, 
and  with  a  steady  eye,  looking  into  Lloyd's,  finished  the  sentence  : 
"  These  were  the  words  of  Moses." 

Some  picture  of  Moses  that  Lloyd  had  seen,  probably  in  the  old 
Bible  of  his  mother's  family,  was  revived  by  the  appearance  of  Isaac 
Smith  at  this  moment.  His  nose  would  have  been  quite  the  Jew's, 
but  that  it  came  to  an  end  too  bluntly.  His  eyes,  at  spells,  turned 
inward,  like  a  lost  thinker's,  and  his  manner  varied  from  the  hard, 
practical  American  to  the  introspective,  tranceful  Oriental. 

"  The  poor  man  is  crazy  on  religious  subjects,"  thought  Lloyd 
Quantrell,  "  but  how  in  the  deuce  did  he  get  the  military  lunacy 
there  too .?     Why,  out  of  Moses,  of  course ! 

"  So,  General  Smith,"  interrupted  the  3'oung  hunter,  pleasantly, 
"  that  was  the  way  Moses  got  his  military  commission  }  He  was 
made  a  general  in  the  bush  ?  " 

"  I  was  about  to  say,  Mr.  Quantrell,  the  general  peace  prevailing 
among  many  nations  was  broken — among  the  Canaanites,  the  Hit- 
tites,  the  Jebusites,  the  Philistines,  and  many  others — who  looked 
upon  Moses,  probably,  as  a  sore  disturber.  They  had  not  heard 
the  voice  he  heard,  nor  seen  the  cause  of  war  that  lay  among  them. 
But  in  the  deep  prosperity  of  society  often  lies  the  live  coal  of  war, 
as  I  have  seen,  at  corn-harvest  time,  the  fires  break  out  in  the  woods 
and  standing  crops.  One  man  might  fail  in  this  age — even  one  as 
obedient  as  Moses — to  set  in  conflict  the  powers  that  now  lie  so 
tightly  bound  in  cunning  compromises  that  they  can  not  draw  back 
to  strike  each  other.  But  the  Power  which  sent  the  mysterious 
voice  can  bring  the  armies  up,  though  the  chosen  captain  look  in 
vain  to  know  how  or  where !  He  may  excite  only  derision  instead 
of  war.  He  may  be  punished  in  a  lunatic  asylum.  He  may  have 
the  misery  of  utterly  failing  and  involving  others  in  destruction,  but 
Moses  thought  all  these  things  over,  and  they  did  not  move  him." 

Lloyd  Quantrell  arose  and  whistled  to  his  dog. 

"  General  Smith,"  he  said,  "  myself  and  your  two  sons  have  been 
greatly  edified.  To  meet  a  man  of  your  travel  and  intelligence  on 
the  top  of  the  mountain  is  a  refreshing  surprise,  sir.     But  the  sun  is 


SOME   OLD  DUTCH. 


23 


getting  low,  and  I  have  no  shelter  for  the  night.  I  would  accept  the 
hospitality  of  your  house,  if  I  knew  just  where  it  was." 

"  We  are  not  going  home,  Mr,  Quantrell,"  spoke  one  of  the  young 
men,  "  and  there  is  nobody  at  our  Httle  cabin  to  entertain  you.  We 
are  sorry,  sir.  You  will  do  best  to  go  down  into  the  Catoctin  Val- 
ley, here,  where  the  settlements  are  close  together.  It  is  not  very 
far  to  Middletown,  where  there  is  a  tavern." 

"Yes,"  said  Isaac  Smith,  "we  are  out,  Mr.  Quantrell,  on  a  night 
excursion,  to  hunt  minerals  in  the  mountain.  I  use  the  divining-rod, 
sir,  with  much  success.  We  expect  to  find  lead  in  these  hills,  or 
iron,  at  least." 

"  Ah,  General  Smith,  you  have  got  a  universal  head  there  !  So 
all-night  luck  to  you,  and  good-by. — Come,  Albion." 

The  dog  started  ahead  at  the  cry, 

"  God  bless  you,  sir !  "  said  Isaac  Smith,  taking  Lloyd's  hand  in  a 
large,  fatherly  palm.  "  Remember  the  queer  old  man's  sermon  on 
the  mountain,  and — never  kill  a  dove  again." 

As  the  young  man  waved  his  hand  and  went  on,  he  looked  back 
once,  and  saw  all  three  of  the  mountaineers  watching  him  till  he  dis- 
appeared in  the  woods. 


CHAPTER   III. 

SOME  OLD   DUTCH. 

Lloyd  Quantrell  had  still  more  than  an  hour  of  daylight ; 
not  enough  to  find  his  way  back  to  Sandy  Hook,  where  he  had 
slept  at  the  tavern,  but  abundant  time  to  walk  down  the  mountain 
into  Catoctin  or  Middle  Creek  Valley. 

He  took  the  side-roads  leading  from  the  mountain  pasture-lands, 
then  crossed  the  steep  fields,  now  stripped  of  their  crops,  and,  find- 
ing plenty  of  chestnuts  to  fill  his  pockets,  gnawed  as  he  went  along, 
and  had  a  shot  or  two  at  some  late-feeding  partridges  ;  and  finally 
he  jumped  on  a  farmer's  wagon,  the  farmer  nodding  assent  pleas- 
antly as  he  urged  his  horses,  till,  at  a  farm-gate  near  the  creek,  the 
wagon  turned  in. 

Lloyd  then  jumped  off  and  found  himself  at  a  covered  bridge 
from  which  he  could  not  see  the  white  spires  of  Middletown.  So 
he  turned  up  a  road  at  the  creek's  side,  which  looked  cool  and 


24 


A^ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 


idling,  and  at  a  spring  in  the  sandstone  took  a  drink.     Here  his  dog 
also  drank,  and  then  barked  as  if  hungry. 

Continuing  half  an  hour  on  farther,  a  turn  in  the  road  brought 
to  view  a  comfortable  farm  settlement  on  a  slope  of  the  sluggish, 
verdant-rimmed  Catoctin,  which,  on  alternate  sides,  as  it  wound 
through  the  deep-cloven  fields,  slid  beneath  the  exposed  layers  of 
stone.  Upon  that  side,'  opposite  such  an  exposure,  where  the  bank 
rounded  down  to  a  level  lawn,  in  which  a  stone  spring-house  shaded 
a  cool  spring  at  the  roots  of  a  great,  skyey  sycamore,  stood,  above 
the  spring-house,  at  the  top  of  a  path,  one  of  the  large  log-houses, 
whitewashed,  which  make  at  once  the  cheapest  and  most  whole- 
some residences  in  this  part  of  Maryland. 

There  had  originally  been  a  square,  stem  stone  house  in  place  of 
this,  and  it  still  remained  against  the  southern  gable  of  the  log  por- 
tion like  an  ice-house,  always  cool  and  perhaps  dampish,  its  small, 
deep-walled  windows  taking  an  expression  upon  them  like  one  of 
the  hard  Scotch-Irish  race,  who  probably  built  it  in  the  days  when 
they  needed  such  protection  for  their  cruelties  to  Indians  and  each 
other. 

But  the  peaceful  German,  in  time  crossing  the  Pennsylvania  line, 
perhaps  unconscious  of  a  boundary,  had  bought  his  precursor  out, 
sowed  clover,  reduced  the  stone  to  soil,  and,  as  his  family  wants  en- 
larged, became  his  own  carpenter,  calling  his  sons  and  neighbors 
together,  and  hewing  in  his  own  woods  in  winter,  while  farm-work 
languished,  the  native  forest  trunks  to  compose  his  addition.  These, 
split  in  half  and  the  faces  smoothed,  were  called  puncheons,  and 
they  were  dragged  to  the  side  of  the  old  stone  block-house,  and 
there  fitted  and  framed  together,  and  their  chinks  filled  with  plaster, 
while  the  family  lived  undisturbed  in  the  stone  castle. 

This  new  and  roomy  dwelling,  made  of  oak  or  chestnut,  was  set 
with  its  side  to  the  road,  propped  on  brick  or  stone  foundations,  and 
its  roof,  doors,  and  shutters  were  painted  blue  like  wmter  cabbages. 

These  ideas  went  through  Ouantrell's  brain  as  he  caught  sight 
of  the  long,  homely  farmer's  dwelling  standing  on  the  hill,  shaded 
there  by  maples  and  large  willows,  and  to  the  north  were  a  garden 
and  small  peach-orchard,  and  beyond  that  was  a  huge  bam  of  logs, 
with  a  bridge  leading  to  its  main  story,  and  cattle  in  the  cow-yard 
and  beneath  its  stone  basement. 

At  sight  of  these  cattle  and  of  the  dairy-house  beneath  the  syca- 
more-tree, Lloyd  exclaimed  to  his  dog : 


SOME   OLD   DUTCH. 


25 


"  Albion,  here  !     Milk,  by  George  ! " 

Thus  stimulated  or  encouraged,  Albion  darted  in  the  open  gate 
of  the  house-yard,  and  trotted  briskly  up  the  path  to  the  dwelling. 
He  was  almost  there,  when  a  growl  arrested  him. 

A  dog  of  about  the  same  size,  of  cross-breeds,  but  with  mastiff 
in  him,  appeared  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  directing  his  attention  to 
both  dog  and  gunner. 

For  an  instant  Albion  appeared  to  be  meditating  an  attack,  and 
raised  his  hair  and  showed  his  row  of  white  molars.  But,  without 
any  ceremony,  the  country  dog,  seeing  this,  came  down  the  hill 
with  a  steady  trot,  increasing  it  to  a  run,  and  then  at  a  bound  ran 
under  the  pointer,  upset  him,  and  rolled  down  hill,  and  then  started 
back  for  a  second  wrestle  and  fight. 

The  pointer  now  lost  all  show  of  self-possession,  and  crouched 
down  and  looked  rapidly  for  escape  ;  but  before  he  could  conclude 
which  way  to  fly,  the  ugly  animal  was  upon  him,  and  only  Albion's 
agility,  as  he  jumped  high  in  the  air,  aided  by  his  opponent's  clum- 
siness, saved  his  fine  ears  from  being  torn.  He  turned  and  fled  down 
the  path  to  the  spring-house,  and,  darting  in  there,  upset  a  pan 
of  warm  milk  as  it  was  just  being  placed  in  the  stone  spring  trough 
beside  others  by  a  little  lady. 

"  Wass  hufmg'faild?  Here,  Fritz  !  "  cried  the  milk  fairy  to  her 
dog,  and  in  an  instant  he  plunged  in  at  the  door  and  turned  over  into 
the  cold-water  trough,  upsetting  two  other  pans  of  milk,  and  Albion 
crouched  at  the  mistress's  feet,  trembling  and  whining  for  protec- 
tion. 

Lloyd  Quantrell,  who  had  hurried  after  his  dog,  peeped  into  the 
spring-house  door  in  time  to  see  a  beautiful,  dark-eyed  girl,  with  her 
arms  bare  and  a  finely  modeled  foot,  extricating  her  gown  from  the 
pointer's  hysterical  paws.  As  she  saw  Lloyd  standing  there  with  a 
gun,  he  heard  her  murmur : 

"  Waer  is  ar,  anyhow  }     Down,  Fritz  !  " 

She  menaced  her  own  dog  with  a  large  wooden  butter-ladle,  and, 
as  he  came  out  of  the  dairy,  Lloyd  spoke  firmly  and  candidly  to 
him: 

"  Fritz,  my  brave  fellow !  Did  we  spill  his  darling  mistress's 
milk?     Well,  Fritz,  we  must  pay  her  father  for  it." 

Admiration  was  instant  and  mutual  in  the  young  man  and  the 
girl.  Her  astonishment  relaxed  to  the  likeness  of  his  ardent  smile, 
and  he  said,  without  dropping  his  eyes : 


26  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  just  my  luck  to  stop  where  the  prettiest 
girl  in  Frederick  County  lived  !  " 

"  You're  sure  you've  found  te  right  place,  then  ?  "  spoke  the  girl, 
naturally,  but  blushing  much. 

"Won't  you  let  me  stop  here  and  prove  it?"  said  Lloyd. 
"  What's  your  name  ?     Mine's  Lloyd." 

"I'm  Katy,"  said  the  girl,  "Jake  Hosier's  Katy.  I'm  goin'  on 
seventeen." 

At  this  point  the  dog  Albion,  as  if  smarting  under  his  recent 
discomfiture,  grasped  the  situation :  he  saw  Fritz  being  petted  by 
his  master,  a  thing  to  provoke  his  jealousy,  and  Fritz's  mistress 
ready  to  apply  the  big  wooden  spoon  to  Fritz  in  case  he  violated 
any  law  of  hospitality.  Thought  Albion,  "  It's  a  safe  chance  for 
intervention ! " 

So,  with  cool  but,  as  it  soon  appeared,  mistaken  policy,  Albion 
made  a  dart,  after  reconnaissance,  upon  Fritz's  extended  hinder  leg, 
and,  seizing  it  with  his  teeth,  made  an  effort  to  hamstring  his  enter- 
tainer. 

The  rough  country  dog,  suspecting  no  assault,  was  maddened 
by  the  pain,  and  springing  backward  and  turning  in  the  air  he  locked 
his  teeth  in  the  first  flesh  he  came  to,  which  happened  to  be  Albion's 
ear,  and  both  dogs  rolled  into  the  spring-house  fighting,  the  one 
from  courage  and  the  other  for  life.  Little  Katy  could  not  beat  them 
apart,  and  Lloyd  Quantrell  rushed  in  to  seize  them,  and,  losing  his 
footing  in  the  dark  interior  of  the  dairy,  fell  full  length  into  the 
water,  and  came  out  wet  to  the  skin. 

The  noise  of  fighting  and  howling  dogs  brought  down  the  in- 
mates of  the  log  and  stone  house :  a  large,  barefooted  man  with  a 
great  black,  wide-brimmed  hat,  and  homespun  clothes  all  of  the  same 
gray  color ;  and  a  younger  man  in  a  copy  of  the  same  dress ;  and  a 
fine-looking  blonde  girl  in  brown  homespun  with  flowers  in  her  hat. 

"Flint?  "  exclaimed  the  farmer,  looking  at  the  gun  ;  then  look- 
ing at  Lloyd,  he  added,  "  Yingling I"  and  cried  out : 

"  Katy,  wo  fails  now?  " 

"Nothing's  te  matter,  father,"  Katy  replied,  "but  te  dogs 
fought  and  te  young  man's  wet  his  clothes." 

As  Lloyd  came  out,  holding  his  fine  dog  up  by  main  strength, 
they  saw  that  one  of  the  pointer's  beautiful  ears  was  gone.  The 
humiliated  beast,  still  in  apprehension,  ran  to  the  feet  of  every  person, 
cringing  and  whining  with  pain. 


SOME   OLD  DUTCH. 


27 


Lloyd  Quantrell  took  a  stick  from  the  ground  and  whipped  his 
dog  till  it  seemed  to  lose  all  voice  and  spirit. 

"  There,"  finished  the  gunner,  coolly,  "  he'll  have  just  ear  enough 
after  this  for  good,  big,  right  game,  and  no  more  doves ! " 

None  interrupted  the  flogging  but  little  Katy,  who  kept  saying : 

"  Ganoonk!    Enough  !     He  won't  do  so  any  more." 

"  No,"  remarked  Lloyd,  "  not  if  it  can  be  flogged  out  of  him.— 
Farmer  Bosler  " — he  addressed  the  man,  with  ready  memory  and 
frankness — "  I've  been  gunning,  and  one  of  your  talkative  neighbors 
has  kept  me  out  late.  Can't  you  give  me  a  bed  and  a  dry  suit  or  a 
blanket,  for  love  or  money .-'" 

"  Yaw.  Coom  along !  "  the  farmer  said,  asking  no  more  ques- 
tions, and  the  farmer's  son  took  Lloyd's  gun,  saying : 

"  Take  supper  with  us.     It's  a'  ready." 

Lloyd  looked  at  the  two  girls,  Katy  with  rich,  dark  eyes  and 
dark  hair,  and  small,  supple  figure,  and  the  other  girl,  a  full  blonde, 
tall,  large  for  her  young  age,  and  looking  at  Lloyd  with  bold,  instant 
coquetry,  as  if  she  would  not  be  anticipated  in  his  conquest. 

"  Ha !  "  thought  Lloyd,  "  it's  well  to  have  a  choice,  but  I  think 
that  little  Katy  of  Catoctin  will  do  for  me." 

Katy,  so  happy  and  so  startled  that  she  did  not  know  what  she 
felt,  replied  to  her  female  friend's  suggestion,  in  the  mountain  Dutch 
patois,  that  Lloyd  was  " orrick  shtids,"  ox  "very  proud-looking," 
by  saying : 

"  Sell  is' n  mistake  ;  ar  is  orrick  friendlichy 

Lloyd  grasped  the  meaning,  and  knew  himself  described  as  "  very 
sociable." 

The  barefooted  farmer  walked  up  the  steep  grassy  lawn  to  the 
establishment,  which  had  three  doors  in  its  long  front,  one  near  each 
end  of  the  log  portion,  and  another  in  the  older  stone  gable. 

"  Luter,"  he  said  to  his  son,  "  he  sleeps  py  you." 

Without  any  more  words,  farmer  Jake  Bosler  seized  a  rope  which 
communicated  with  a  large  bell  on  the  top  of  the  log-house,  and 
rang  it  loud  and  clear  for  the  farm-hands  to  come  in,  saying : 

"  Soon-down  !    Bi'm-by !  " 

As  the  clear  bell  sounded  in  the  cool  amber  mountain  evening 
out  of  the  perfect  rest  of  this  soft  valley,  it  seemed  that  Sunday  en- 
tered in  and  the  lately  savage  dogs  began  to  agree.  Fritz  licked  the 
place  where  Albion's  lost  ear  had  been,  and  Albion,  defeated  every- 
where, permitted  the  attention  like  one  always  in  the  right,  yet  some- 


28  KATY  OF  CATOCThV. 

times  put  down.  Lloyd  Quantrell  received  the  warm,  admiring  look 
of  Katy's  friend,  but  gave  it  back  to  little  Katy. 

"  You  sleeps  py  me,"  Luther  Bosler  said,  leading  the  way  up-stairs 
by  the  door  in  the  stone-gabled  front. 

They  entered  a  bare  room  of  good  size  with  a  fireplace  in  the 
end,  and  there  Katy's  brother  had  hardly  put  some  wood  on  two 
stones,  when  her  father  brought  up  a  shovel  of  coals  and  set  the 
wood  on  fire. 

"Here,"  said  Luther  Bosler,  "git  into  tese  clothes.  Mister 
Yager." 

"No  mister  about  me,  Luther,"  answered  the  sociable  Balti- 
morean,  tenacious  of  a  name  ;  "  my  name's  Lloyd  Quantrell.  You 
and  Jake  call  me  Lloyd  ! " 

He  looked  audaciously  at  farmer  Bosler,  who,  far  from  resenting 
the  "Jake,"  now  laughed. 

"  All  right,  Lloyd  !  "  cried  Jake.  "  Ha !  ha  !  Luter,  he's  joost 
as  plain  as  us  ole  Tunkers,  ain't  he  ? — Well,  Lloyd,  coom  to  supper. 
Bi'm-by  ! " 

As  father  and  son  went  down  the  stairs,  Lloyd,  slipping  on  the 
suit  of  coarse,  clod-smelling  clothes,  and  an  old  flannel  shirt,  lay  on 
the  bed,  where  he  could  find  no  cover  but  another  feather-bed, 
and  shut  his  eyes  in  the  pleasurable  tingle  after  a  cold  bath  and  by 
a  now  crackling  fire.  Night  seemed  to  come  and  sit  in  the  deep 
stone  windows  to  warm  at  the  fire,  now  brighter  than  the  day. 

"  A  Dutchman's  guest !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Well,  well !  The 
last  Dutchman  I  met  I  stuck  in  the  thigh  with  a  shoemaker's  awl 
for  getting  too  near  the  polls.  Can  I  ever  respect  a  Dutchman  ? 
— even  the  father  of  little  Katy  of  Catoctin  ?  " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

KATY   "  P'INTED." 

When  he  came  down  to  supper,  several  plain,  uncultivated-look- 
ing men  were  already  at  the  table,  where  Lloyd  was  accommodated 
with  a  place  between  Katy  and  her  friend,  who  was  introduced  by 
Katy,  saying : 

"  Tis  is  Nelly  Harbaugh  ;  she's  a  Swisser." 


KATY  "P 'IN TED."  20 

"You're  a  Deitsher,"  replied  Nelly  Harbaugh  to  Katy. 

"  What's  the  difference,  girls, between  a  Swisser  and  a  Deitsher?  " 
asked  Lloyd  of  the  two  ladies  alternately,  looking  his  fondest. — "  Jake, 
you  tell  me." 

"  Nay,"  said  Jake,  replying  in  kind.  "  Ich  wats's  net,  Lloyd. 
Ask  Andrew  Atzerodt ;  he's  quick." 

"  Te  Swisser,"  spoke  up  one  of  the  apparent  serving-men — that 
only  one  whose  face,  as  Lloyd  now  remarked  it,  seemed  to  have  a 
little  worldly  restlessness  —  "te  Swisser  offers  hisself  for  to  pe 
bought.     Te  Deitsher  gits  sold  and  says  nix.     Dat's  so,  py  Jing  !  " 

He  raised  his  voice  at  the  end  in  a  way  to  exasperate  Lloyd, 
looking  at  Lloyd,  too,  as  if  to  say,  "  I  am  always  positive." 

"  Nelly,"  insinuated  Lloyd,  "  when  you  re  in  the  market,  let  me 
know,  sweetness  ! — Katy,  AonX.  you  get  sold  without  giving  me  the 
first  chance ! " 

"  Ha,  ha !  Lloyd,"  Jake  Bosler  broke  out,  "  you  is  a  great  feller 
for  te  girls." 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  "  Nelly  Harbaugh  asked  Lloyd,  giving  him 
the  whole  sunflower  of  her  attention. 

"  I  reckon  so,"  Lloyd  answered,  but  looking  at  little  Katy. 

"  Py  Jing !  "  exclaimed  Atzerodt,  across  the  table,  fiercely  at 
Lloyd,  "  Nelly,  tare,  is  my  gal,  I  haf  you  know !  " 

He  looked  to  Lloyd  now  to  have  been  drinking,  or  to  be  natu- 
rally a  little  drunk. 

"  There's  nothing  like  being  impressive,  Andrew,"  replied  Lloyd, 
looking  straight  at  him,  and  mentally  wishing  he  had  him  down  the 
road.     "  Are  you  a  Swisser  or  a  Deitsher  ?  " 

"Me.'  Py  Jing,  I'm  a  Swisser.  I  lif  in  te  Valley  of  Fergeenia, 
where  tey  fights  at  te  drop  of  te  hat ! " 

"  You  better  go  down  there  and  fight,  then,"  Nelly  Harbaugh 
said  to  Andrew. — "  Luther  Bosler,  tell  Lloyd  about  the  mountain 
Dutch ! " 

"  Te  German-blood  people,"  spoke  up  Luther  Bosler,  after  hesi- 
tation, and  in  a  still  and  somewhat  dignified  way,  "  come  to  Penn- 
sylvany  first.  Amongst  te  first  was  us  Tunkers.  We  been  here 
hundred  and  forty  year." 

"  You  too,  Katy  ?  "  interjected  Lloyd.  "  A  hundred  and  forty 
years  here,  and  never  sent  for  me  }  " 

Everybody  laughed  loud,  Andrew  Atzerodt  more  boisterously 
than  all,  and  Katy  answered  meekly  at  last : 


30 


A^ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  I'm  going  on  seventeen." 

Stopping  till  he  was  requested  to  continue,  Luther  Bosler,  whose 
dark  eyes  were  like  Katy's,  but  his  hair  was  coarser  and  of  a  deeper 
brown,  said  on : 

"  Yes,  Lloyd,  us  Dutch  is  a  hundred  2,v^A  fifty  year  in  te  United 
States.  First  off,  te  Germans  come  to  New  York,  and  didn't  like 
that  much,  so  most  of  tern  moved  to  Pennsylvany.  Te  Tunker 
Dutch  was  Baptists,  and  they  spread  all  over  Pennsylvany  and  Ma- 
ryland and  down  Virginia  way.  After  they  got  te  valleys,  te 
Swiss  come  and  took  te  hills  dat  wasn't  good  for  much.  So  now 
we're  all  mixed  up,  Katy's  got  worldly ;  Nelly,  she's  no  Tunker. 
Andrew,  he's  nothin'  but  a  Dutch  coach-maker." 

"  I'm  te  pest  coach-maker  in  Fergeenia,  don't  you  forgit  it ! " 
Andrew  said,  with  rising  inflection  and  want  of  equipoise. 

"  No,  Andrew,"  put  in  Lloyd,  "  when  Katy  and  I  want  our 
royal  coach,  we'll  have  you  make  it. — But,  Luther,  what  do  these 
Dunkers  vote  }  " 

"They  don't  vote  in  general,"  said  Luther.  "  It's  not  religious. 
I  voted  three  year  ago." 

"  I  hope  you  voted  for  Mr.  Fillmore,  Luther  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  said  Luther. 

"  Oh !  of  course,  you  Dutch  folks  had  to  vote  for  old  Buchanan. 
You  couldn't  go  one  of  us  Americans." 

"Because  I  was  an  American,  I  thought,"  quietly  remarked 
Luther,  "  I  voted  for  Colonel  Fremont.  He  got  just  two  hundred 
and  eighty-one  out  of  'most  eighty-seven  thousand  votes  in  Mary- 
land.    So  you  can  see  my  vote  sticking  up  at  te  end,  all  by  itself. " 

"  Luter  'most  got  turned  out  of  meetin'  for  votin  ',"  exclaimed  his 
ffither.     "  But  dey  took  him  back." 

"  Dat  Fremont  was  a  tam  French  abolitionist !  "  exclaimed  the 
excitable  Atzerodt.     "  I  kill  him,  py  Jing  !  " 

"  Go  for  him,  Andrew,"  said  Lloyd,  grimly.  "  He's  afraid  of 
you,  I  know.  But,  pop  " — to  Jake  Bosler — "  can't  you  take  me  to 
meeting  with  you  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  O  father,  do  !  "  spoke  up  Katy,  impulsively,  "  it's  /ove-feast !  " 

"  We'll  all  go  !  "  Nelly  Harbaugh  cried  ;  "  Luther  must  take 
me." 

"  Oh,  you'll  laugh  at  us  poor  Tunkers,  Lloyd,"  Jake  Bosler  said. 

"  Nelly,  you  goes  with  me  ! "  Andrew  Atzerodt  spluttered,  hot- 
ly.    "  Didn't  I  come  all  te  way  from  Port  Tobacco  to  see  you  ?  " 


KATY  ''POINTED. 


31 


"  I  have  got  better  company,"  said  the  girl,  negligently. 

"  Py  Jing !  "  raged  Atzerodt,  "  I  kill  somebody  I  " 

"  Don't  kill  me,"  exclaimed  Lloyd,  with  humor.  "  I'll  run  under 
the  table  if  you  look  at  me  so." 

Superior  in  worldly  confidence  and  speech,  and  with  unchecked 
humor  and  feelings,  the  city  guest  surpassed  himself  that  evening 
as  the  candles  were  lighted  and  the  wood-fire  flamed,  and  the  pre- 
suming Atzerodt  also  felt  his  influence  as  Lloyd  jested  light  and 
complimentary. 

Luther  Bosler  was  a  good  listener,  and  whenever  Lloyd  looked 
his  way,  Luther,  with  a  certain  sluggish  softness  in  his  dark-lighted 
eyes,  seemed  watching  him,  but  not  with  any  dislike  ;  for,  once 
when  Lloyd  cried — 

"  Luther,  I  see  you're  a  long-headed  old  sly-boots  " — 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Luther,  "  my  head,  Lloyd,  can't  keep  in  my  poots 
\]\itwyoure  a-talkin' ! " 

When  they  had  partaken  of  the  stewed  chicken  and  smear  case 
and  cream,  and  what  Jake  called  the  "  wedgable  things  "  for  vege- 
tables, little  Katy  brought  in  pies  for  supper.  Lloyd  smiled  to  him- 
self, thinking :  "  What  heathens  !  pie  for  supper !  " 

"  What  kind  of  sweet  things,  Kate,"  he  cried,  "are  you  trying 
to  sour  us  on  with  yourself  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Katy,  beaming  joy,  "  here's  peach  snitz  and  elder,  and 
some  kickelins.     I  cooked  tem." 

Lloyd  found  the  "  kickelins  "  were  sweet  cakes  fried  in  fat,  and 
the  "  snitz  "  were  dried  peaches,  and  the  queer  pie  was  made  of 
elder-berries.     Said  Katy,  in  their  Dutch  tongue,  to  Nelly : 

"  How  I  like  to  see  him  eat !     He  does  it  so  easy." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  him  in  love,  Katy," 

"  Hush  I  "  said  Katy,  trembling. 

"Bedtime,"  Jake  Bosler  nodded,  setting  back  his  chair  aid 
glancing  at  the  clock.     "  Bi'm-by  !  " 

"  Jake,  your  clock  is  fast, "  Lloyd  observed,  consulting  his  own 
gold  watch,  at  which  all  the  company  looked,  marveling. 

"  We  keep  it  fast,  Lloyd,"  Luther  Bosler  said  ;  "  it's  te  fashion 
up  here,  so  we  can  go  to  work  earlier." 

"My  goodness!"  Katy  cried,  "  te  apples  is  cut  and  you  men 
must  snitz." 

Two  wash-tubs  were  brought  into  the  whitewashed  room,  and 
sitting  around  them  on  wooden  chairs  all  the  men  commenced  to 


32  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

peel  apples  for  drying,  while  Katy  and  Nelly  produced  two  spinning- 
wheels  and  made  them  fly  and  hum  on  woolen  yarn. 

"  We  make  all  our  own  yarn,"  said  Katy  to  Lloyd,  "  and  send  it 
to  te  weaver.     He  makes  it  into  Dunker  cloth," 

Lloyd  peeled  apples  awhile,  till  Nelly  Harbaugh  called  him  to 
unravel  something  at  the  wheel,  and  then  he  watched  the  two  fine 
girls  working  on  Saturday  night,  with  a  sense  of  reproof  in  his  mind 
for  so  much  avarice  of  time. 

Nothing  was  here,  he  thought,  but  the  physical  beauty  of  these 
women  to  ornament  life  ;  no  pictures  on  the  wall  but  lithographs 
from  Scripture,  no  books  but  the  "  Hagerstown  Almanac "  and 
Bausmann's  travels  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  a  Dutch  Bible  ;  no  orna- 
ments but  some  horns  of  deer  and  a  robe  of  yellow  panther-skins 
sewn  together,  with  the  eye-holes  embroidered  around  the  red  lin- 
ing. The  very  peace  seemed,  to  the  strong-willed  American,  heavy 
with  unspiritual  content ;  but  it  had  brought  to  these  young  girls 
the  perfection  of  everything  but  mind. 

The  face  he  understood  the  best,  and  which  seemed  also  to  un- 
derstand him,  was  Nelly  Harbaugh 's  ;  too  open  to  his  gaze,  unre- 
treating  before  him,  ready  to  be  admired  whenever  he  turned  toward 
it,  and  seeming  to  say,  "  You  can  make  no  mistake — I  am  ready  to 
hear  you." 

Had  Katy  not  been  there  to  drop  her  eyes  before  his  warm  ad- 
miration, he  might  have  paid  closer  regard  to  Nelly  Harbaugh's 
sunny  charms". 

She  was  larger,  fuller,  taller  than  Katy,  with  a  carriage  erect  yet 
indolent,  as  if  Nature  had  given  her  such  animal  health  that  she 
could  not  droop,  but  like  some  strong  -  stemmed  golden  flower 
blinked  not  at  the  hottest  sun,  but  took  its  color  in  every  petal. 
Over  Katy  her  influence  might  be  strong,  Lloyd  thought,  and  he  said  : 
F'  Nelly,  I  know  I  have  seen  your  fine  blue  eyes  in  Baltimore." 

"  No,  I  have  never  been  there,"  Nelly  said,  "  except  to  market, 
and  Luther  made  us  come  back  as  soon  as  we  sold  out." 

She  looked  coquettish  reproach,  with  the  same  searching  direct- 
ness, at  Luther  as  he  came  over  and,  putting  his  hand  upon  her 
shoulder,  looked  at  her  with  mild  interest. 

"Nelly,"  said  Luther,  "will  you  pe  my  girl  if  I  drive  you  to  Bea- 
ver Creek  meeting  ?  " 

"  I  am  always  yours,  Luther,"  answered  Nelly,  examining  him 
with  even  more  wistfulness  than  Lloyd.     "  But  you  don't  want  me." 


ICATV  "F'/NTED. 


33 


"  I  do,"  said  Luther,  "  but  I  want  you  all.  I  think  you  can  not 
gif  me  all  your  heart.     It  is  difided." 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Nelly,  "  but  you  will  not  ask  for  it." 

Lloyd  Quantrell  was  arrested  at  both  the  deepened  interest  in 
Nelly's  eyes  and  the  finely  contrasted  animal  perfection  of  her 
and  of  her  admirer.  Luther  was  dark  and  deep-voiced,  and  with  a 
manly  something  in  him,  however  rude.  In  her  tall,  well-rounded 
figure  and  long  waist,  which  a  bodice  might  adorn,  and  finely 
grained  flesh  and  long  braids  of  corn-colored  hair,  there  seemed  to 
be  strength,  fruitfulness,  and  power  over  man ;  yet  in  her  undis- 
guised ardor  and  will  it  seemed  that  she  needed  Luther's  reality  and 
slower  though  not  stronger  impulses  of  character.  He  looked  at 
her  with  mild,  almost  devout,  eyes,  as  if  he  kept  love  back  by  rea- 
son. 

"  Kiss  her,"  said  Katy.     "  I  know  you  want  to,  Luther." 

Luther  passed  his  arm  around  Nelly,  but  did  not  kiss  her. 

With  disappointment,  yet  pride,  the  girl  turned  on  Lloyd  Quan- 
trell again  the  same  penetrating  and  steady  look. 

Thought  Lloyd,  returning  the  gaze  in  kind,  "  That  girl  a  man 
might  dress  to  look  like  a  queen,  but  even  then  she  could  take  a 
lesson  in  nature  from  little  Katy." 

Katy  had  such  large  eyes,  the  pupils  big  and  the  eyeballs  big 
too,  that  they  turned  in  her  head  like  poems,  Lloyd  thought,  harmo- 
niously rhyming  in  expression  and  so  full  of  tender  feeling  that  he 
said  once,  "  Katy,  I  can  almost  see  the  water  drip  from  those  two 
buckets  of  your  eyes  as  they  rise  on  me  from  the  well  of  your  fresh 
heart." 

"  Why,"  said  Katy,  "  you're  a  poet,  Lloyd.  I  can  make  rhymes 
too." 

"  Singshtf  "  Lloyd  asked,  having  picked  up  a  word. 

"  Yaw,  Lloyd,  and  I  play  te  accordion."  ^^ 

Modestly  Katy  went  for  the  instrument,  and  bringing  it  baclc 
began  to  draw  forth  its  sounds,  opening  her  lips  to  breathe  inward 
the  harmony,  and  Lloyd  saw  that  her  teeth  were  full  and  white. 

Sitting  there  a  mere  child,  her  long  braid  of  chestnut  hair  hang- 
ing to  her  chair,  her  long,  expressive  fingers  at  the  keys,  and  shy- 
ness and  fervor  playing  in  her  countenance  like  trout  in  springs, 
she  suddenly  raised  a  little  German  idyll,  and  her  brother  joined  in 
it  with  his  untrained  bass,  and  all  the  farm-hands  turned  their  faces 
up  to  hear : 


34  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  Oh  was  is  shenner  uf  der  welt 

Os  blimlin  roat  un  weis? 
Un  bio,  un  gail,  im  arble  feld — 

Wass  sin  de  doch  so  neis  ! 
Ich  wais  noch  gout  in  seller  tzeit  % 

Hob  ich  nix  leevers  du, 
Os  in  de  wissa,  long  un  breit 

So  blimlin  g'soocht  we  du."  * 

Lloyd  knew  that  it  was  a  song  about  hunting  bright  flowers  in  the 
fields,  and  almost  understood  the  timid  peep  of  Katy's  eyes  upon 
him,  when  she  sang : 

*'  I  know  yet  well  that  in  that  time 
.Naught  would  I  rather  do, 
•♦  Than  in  the  meadow  long  and  wide 

Such  flow'rets  seek  as  you." 

Jake  Bosler,  who  had  been  nodding,  awoke  to  hear  the  tune,  and 
when  it  was  done  he  wiped  his  eyes  of  some  tears. 

''Ich  cons  net  helfa — I  can't  help  it,"  he  said  :  "  I  tink  of  my 
olty—' 

"My  mother  who  is  dead,"  Katy  explained,  as  Jake  faltered; 
"she's  been  dead  two  years." 

"  Bettime— bi'm-by !  "  Jake  Bosler  managed  to  say  at  last,  and 
Katy  moved  to  the  table  and  opened  the  old  Dutch  Bible.  When 
she  had  read,  in  the  sweetest  tones,  words  intelligible  to  Lloyd  only 
by  their  holiness,  all  present  knelt  and  Jake  Bosler  prayed  for  his 
brood,  for  pure  hearts  and  thoughts,  and  for  the  stranger  within 
his  gates.     His  daughter  and  son  went  up  to  kiss  him. 

"  Goot-night,  Lloyd,"  he  said.     "  Soon-up,  bi'm-by." 

"  Thinking  of  work  even  as  he  falls  to  sleep  ! "  Lloyd  exclaimed, 
"^fcw  give  old  daddy  a  parting  tune  !  " 
#^He  started  up  the  little  song  by  Samuel  Woodworth  : 

"  The  pride  of  the  valley  is  lovely  young  Ellen, 

Who  dwells  in  a  cottage  enshrined  by  a  thicket, 
Sweet  peace  and  content  are  the  wealth  of  her  dwelling, 
And  Truth  is  the  porter  that  waits  at  the  wicket." 

Katy  caught  the  air  and  kept  the  accompaniment  with  her  ac- 
cordion, and  Lloyd  changed  "  Ellen  "  into  "  Katy,"  and  sang  it  to 

*  By  Tobias  Witmer  :  "My  Old  Woman's  Birthday." 


KATV  ''P'JNTEDr  35 

her  with  all  his  spirit,  being  in  fine  voice,  and  all  the  Dutch  people 
Hstened  with  delight. 

"  Ah,  Katy  !  "  said  Jake,  going  up-stairs,  "  I  guess  you  got  a  beau, 
Katy." 

The  serving-men  took  their  departure  too,  and  only  Andrew 
Atzerodt  remained. 

"  Luter,"  he  said,  "git  me  some  of  Jake's  whisky.  I  hat  a  head 
on  me  yisterday." 

"  Here's  some  whisky  we  make  ourselves,  Lloyd,"  Luther  said, 
producing  it.  "  Te  Tankers  keeps  little  still-houses  and  makes  a 
few  bar 'Is  a  year." 

The  pure  liquor  soon  brought  a  pleasurable  glow  to  the  men, 
Luther  drinking  sparingly,  and  for  a  while  the  influence  was  pecul- 
iar on  Atzerodt,  bringing  out  a  vein  of  natural  humor  in  him. 
Lloyd  read  him  soon  to  be  a  man  of  such  volatile  nature  that  his 
forwardness  was  always  getting  him  into  predicaments.  He  chal- 
lenged everybody,  and  probably  had  a  brutal  Hessian  instinct,  as 
Lloyd  expressed  it,  but  possessed  no  fortitude  to  carry  it  out.  See- 
ing that  Luther  was  now  increasing  his  interest  in  Nelly  Harbaugh, 
Ajidrew  cried  out : 

"  Now,  py  Jing !  you  haf  been  bolting  my  gal's  hand  tare  long 
enough!" 

"Sit  down!"  commanded  Nelly  Harbaugh,  "or  I'll  send  you 
home  to  walk  to  Middletown  in  the  dark." 

"I'll  go,  den,"  Atzerodt  cried,  making  a  movement  toward  his 
hat. 

"  Behave,  you  fool ! "  cried  Nelly,  making  Luther  release  her 
hand,  however. 

"She's  got  two  fellows  on  the  string,"  thought  Lloyd  Quantrell, 
"  and  is  fishing  for  me  too. — Ah  !  Andrew,"  Lloyd  spoke  out| 
are  a  courageous  man.     A  desperate  man,  I  call  you.     I  h^ 
doubt  that  you  could  take  your  hat  and  walk  alone  among 
mountains  all  night,  and  not  run  from  the  ghost  I  saw  to-day." 

"Gez'sht/"  exclaimed  Andrew,  looking  behind  him  and  turn- 
ing pale,  "  I  walk  past  a  shpook  and  shust  laugh  at  him— ha ! 
ha!" 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  my  brave  fellow,"  cried  Lloyd,  standing 
up.     "And  you  have  got  a  strong  grip  too,  Andrew." 

"  If  I  shqueeze  you  hard,  py  Jing,"  said  the  heedless  mechanic, 
"  you  goes  crazy." 


jariireii, 

e  th^ 


36 


KATY  OF  C A  roc  TIN. 


"  Don't  squeeze  me,  Andrew,"  exclaimed  Lloyd,  with  a  wink  to 
the  rest.     "  Now  you  are  doing  of  it.     Ouch  !     Let  me  go  ! " 

As  he  spoke,  Lloyd,  who  was  a  powerful  man,  trained  in  athletic 
games,  closed  his  great  palm  around  the  coachmaker's,  and  slowly 
tightened  it.  The  poor  fellow  writhed  and  groveled  in  pain,  but 
feared  to  cry  out,  since  his  oppressor  kept  saying : 

"What  nerve!  what  endurance!  Don't  squeeze  me  so!  Oh, 
take  him  off !     Have  mercy,  Andrew !  " 

Thus  shouting,  the  tears  came  to  Lloyd's  eyes  to  see  the  poor' 
braggart  suffer,  and  all  laughed  but  Katy,  who  cried  : 

"  You're  hurting  one  another,  I  know." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Lloyd,  looking  at  his  own  hand  as  if  in  misery, 
"  never  will  I  go  into  the  lion's  den  again." 

"  Py  Jing !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  breath 
and  suppress  his  sobs,  "you  got  a  purty  goot  grip,  too.  But  I'm  a 
workin'-man.     Better  not  tackle  me,  Lloyd  ! " 

"Poor  thing,"  said  Katy,  taking  Lloyd's  hand  timidly,  and  look- 
ing at  it.  He  raised  her  little  fingers  up  as  if  to  show  her  his  wound, 
and  kissed  them. 

"  Don't,"  said  Katy ;  "  I  been  huskin'  corn  all  day  in  te  field." 

"  Do  they  work  the  women  out  in  the  fields  ?  "  asked  Lloyd. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Katy  answered  simply,  while  Nelly  Harbaugh  made  an 
effort  to  restrain  her,  which  Katy  did  not  understand  ;  "  father  gives 
Nelly  half  a  dollar  a  day  for  huskin'  and  plantin'  corn.  She  must 
be  rich." 

"  What  ghost  did  you  see  on  the  mountain.  Lloyd  ?  "  Nelly  Har- 
baugh asked,  evasively. 

All  seemed  interested  to  hear  this,  and  Lloyd,  standing  up  to  em- 
phasize the  story  and  test  Andrew  Atzerodt's  nerve-powers,  looked 
quiJjthe  necromancer  in  his  farmer's  suit  and  in  a  wide  Dunker  hat 
j^flpir  drew  on. 

^'^'Andrew,"  spoke  Lloyd,  "  only  your  splendid  courage  could 
have  resisted  the  feeling  that  the  old  man  I  saw  to-day  was  not 
mortal.  He  had  a  nose  that  seemed  to  curl  like  an  elephant's 
trunk ;  his  eyebrows  stood  up  like  a  horse's  mane ;  his  beard  fell 
below  his  breast-bone  and  had  silver  fire  in  it  like  old  punk.  He 
closed  his  big  jaw,  saying :  '  Is  this  a  dove  you  have  been  shooting? 
Agh-h-h  ! '" 

"  Stop  !  You  lie  !  He  wasn't  tare  !  "  cried  Andrew,  sinking  at 
the  knees,  at  the  stranger's  well-acted  part. 


KATY  "POINTED. 


37 


" He  was  there,  Andrew.  I  swear  it !  'Is  this  a  dove  you  have 
been  killing  ? '  the  wild  man  said,  his  voice  as  cold  as  the  October 
wind  which  blows  that  door  open  now — hoo-oo-oo  !  " 

"  Scat !  Te  wind  is  high,"  chattered  Atzerodt,  as  the  door  to  the 
kitchen  opened  a  Httle  way, 

"  *  I  have  no  respect,'  the  phantom  said  to  me,  '  for  any  man 
who  will  kill  a  little  dove.     No-o-o-o  ! '  " 

"  You  scare  us,  Lloyd  !  "  murmured  little  Katy,  leaving  her  chair 
and  coming  forward,  as  if  to  shut  the  creaking  door.  He  held  his 
hand  out  to  detain  her,  and  continued : 

" '  I  did  not  mean  to  do  it,'  I  said  to  that  strange  man ;  '  my 
pointer  dog  was  obstinate,  and  nosed  the  harmless  bird.  Forgive 
me,  mountain-wizard  ! '  '  No  ! '  pealed  he,  '  a  dove  !  A  little,  little 
d-o-o-ve  ! '  " 

"  Pooh  ! "  said  Atzerodt,  "  if  dat  was  all,  a  little  pit  of  a  dove, 
you  wasn't  afeard." 

Atzerodt  took  a  stout  drink  of  the  whisky.  The  loose  door 
obeyed  the  wind  again  and  opened  inward.  Katy  stepped  forward, 
but  Lloyd  held  her  at  an  arm's  length. 

"  *  My  dog  would  nose  the  dove,'  I  pleaded.  '  'Twas  not  my 
fault,  indeed  ! '  '  You  killed  a  dove,'  said  he, '  a  little,  little  d-o-o-ve.' 
'  Hist,  Albion,'  said  \,  '  seek  farther  on — '  " 

"  Ha !  what's  dat }  I  hears  a  kreisha  !  "  Andrew  muttered,  as  a 
sort  of  wail  came  from  the  kitchen. 

"Albion!"  repeated  Lloyd,  himself  disturbed  by  the  noise  and 
his  own  zeal,  for  he  had  involuntarily  exceeded  his  joke. 

As  he  mentioned  the  name  of  his  dog,  Albion  himself,  mechani- 
cally walking  as  if  in  sleep,  came  through  the  kitchen  door  that  was 
ajar;  and  advancing  near  the  middle  of  the  large  room,  threw  back 
his  body  and  threw  up  his  white  and  brown  nose,  and  whimpered  as 
on  the  mountain-top.  His  torn  ear  was  turned  toward  then(™^ 
showed  bloody  yet.  ^^ 

"  The  hoond  p'ints  something,"  muttered  Luther  Bosler.  "  What 
is  it .?  " 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha  !  "  Atzerodt  replied,  repeating  his  drink.  "  I  tink 
it's  Katy." 

"  Maybe  it's  the  Black  Dog !  "  shouted  Nelly  Harbaugh.  "  Say 
'The  Words,' Katy!" 

As  both  girls  started  to  mutter  something  like  an  incantation, 
Luther  Bosler  advanced  to  take  his  sister,  but  Lloyd  Quantrell  had 


38 


KAl^Y  OF  CATOCTIN. 


assuaged  her  terror  in  his  own  arms,  and  as  he  drew  her  tenderly  to 
him  he  threw  Jake  Bosler's  big  wool  hat  at  the  dog,  which  snapped 
at  it  and  shrank  back  into  the  dark  kitchen. 

"  Dear  little  dove,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  said,  attempting  to  kiss  Katy, 
but  she  pressed  his  head  away,  "  that  wasn't  a  black  dog  at  all,  only 
my  English  pointer." 

"The  Black  Dog,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh,  "needn't  be  black. 
It's  a  spirit." 

"  Spirit  of  what  ?  " 

"  Trouble,"  answered  Nelly  Harbaugh. 

"  Lloyd,"  murmured  little  Katy,  "  it  p'inted  at  me  and  you.  We 
must  say  '  Te  Words  '  together." 

" '  The  Words  ?  '  "  Lloyd  answered.  "  I  don't  know '  The  Words,' 
Katy." 

"  O  Lloyd  !  '  Te  Words  '  keep  off  te  Poltergeist.  I  say  them 
when  I  see  a  bad  sign  and  when  I  am  too  happy,  for  when  we're 
happiest  te  bad  man  likes  to  come." 

"Say  them  now,  Katy,"  Lloyd  whispered,  pressing  her  close  in 
his  strong  arms  ;  "  I'm  very  happy,  for  I  love  you  ! " 

"Do  you.-*  Oh!  you  must  tell  te  truth  now;  for  I'm  going  to 
say  •  Te  Words,'  and  it's  wicked  to  say  them  with  a  lie." 

"  I  love  you,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  replied,  his  arms  trembling.  "  I'll 
say  '  The  Words '  after  you  with  joy,  Katy." 

"  Call  on  te  three  Highest  Names,  my  love,"  said  Katy,  in  rapt 
awe. 

As  they  said  together  in  a  country  rhyme,  he  repeating  after  her, 
the  dread  names  in  the  Trinity,  they  heard  the  dog  howl  in  the 
kitchen. 

"There,"  said  Katy,  "te  Black  Dog  heard  us  and  is  gone. 
Llovd,  you  may  kiss  me  now." 

^^0  blessed  words,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  murmured,  "which  brought 
Wis  kiss  to  me.  Teach  me  from  your  pure  heart  all  that  it  knows, 
dear  child,  and  keep  me  happy  as  I  am." 

"  You  must  pelieve,"  said  Katy,  "  pelieve  in  te  Three  Highest 
Names  and  say  'Te  Words',  and  then  love  will  be  beautiful." 

"  Who  told  you,  Katy  ?  " 

"  My  dear  mother,  Lloyd,  and  my  heart  tells  me,  too." 

"  Did  you  ever  love  before  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  often  tried  to.  When  you  came  to  te  spring  house, 
Lloyd,  I  was  saying  to  myself :  '  I  guess  somebody  is  going  to  love 


LOVE  AMOXG   THE   SPOOKS.  30 

me.  But  I  wonder  when  he  will  come?'  I  knew  he  was  some- 
wheres." 

"  God  bless  you,  darling !  That  verj^  same  was  I  thinking  :  that 
the  country  was  beautiful,  but  I  was  lonely  in  it,  for  want  of  some 
gentle  heart  and  glowing  face.  I  have  found  you,  Katy,  and  both 
of  us  are  happy." 

Again  the  stranger  in  the  mountains  pressed  to  his  lips  the  sim- 
ple and  unresisting  face  which  had  floated  to  him  like  a  sunny  cloud 
in  this  high  vale,  and  for  a  little  while  he  forgot  that  she  was  "  Dutch," 
hard  as  his  native  prejudices  were  against  that  humble  race,  longer  in 
the  land  than  his  own  name  of  Quantrell. 


CHAPTER   V. 

LOVE  AMONG  THE   SPOOKS. 

When  they  returned  in  consciousness  to  the  whitewashed  great 
room  of  Jacob  Bosler,  Nelly  was  sitting  near  the  fire,  which  had 
burned  low,  with  Luther  on  her  right  and  Atzerodt  on  her  left. 
Atzerodt  was  telling  tales  of  spirits  and  frightening  himself,  and 
hence  drew  frequently  upon  the  jug  of  whisky  to  give  him  what 
Lloyd  called  "  Dutch  courage." 

He  told  of  the  snarley-yow  and  the  were-wolf ;  the  phantom  sol- 
dier and  the  white  woman  which  announced  a  death ;  of  the  big  In- 
dian's shade  with  a  light  in  him  ;  and  of  the  fox-fire  in  the  fields 
which  lay  on  the  meadow-grass  at  night  and  turned  to  silver,  but 
like  the  fire-coals  when  stirred  by  avarice  were  silver  only  at  night, 
but  in  the  morning  ashes. 

Atzerodt's  sallow,  furtive,  somewhat  anxious  face,  like  t<|[t  of 
one  intense  yet  animal,  brightened  up  between  the  drink,  the  super- 
stition, and  his  enjoyment  of  the  others'  fears  ;  his  voice  was  shrill 
and  responsive  to  his  emotions,  his  frame  thick  set  and  his  move- 
ments were  agile,  his  eyes  a  keen  blue,  and  no  repose  was  in  his 
soul. 

"He's  one  of  the  best  coachmakers  to  be  found,"  said  Nelly  to 
Lloyd.  "  If  he'd  be  steady,  he  could  marry  any  girl,  and  be  a  rich 
man." 

"  Can't  you  make  him  steady  }  " 


40 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  I  don't  want  to  be  a  mechanic's  wife,"  said  Nelly,  "  unless  I 
must." 

Looking  at  him  again,  as  if  trying  to  read  him,  Nelly  Harbaugh 
said  : 

"  Is  your  watch  gold  ?  Won't  you  give  it  to  me  ?  What  do 
you  do  in  Baltimore  ?  " 

"  Spend  money,"  said  Lloyd,  "  run  to  the  fires,  turn  out  with  the 
Grays,  and  guard  the  polls." 

"  The  Grays  ?     That's  soldiers  !  " 

"  Yes,  we're  all  Union  men.  Not  a  foreigner  in  the  company. 
Our  motto  is,  '  Put  none  but  Americans  on  guard.'  " 

"  I  hope  everybody  is  for  te  Union,"  Luther  Bosler  remarked ; 
"  we're  all  for  it  up  this  a-way." 

"  Katy,"  Lloyd  said,  "  do  you  beheve  in  ghosts  }  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Lloyd." 

"  Tell  me  about  one." 

Katy  shrank  a  little  at  being  called  upon  to  take  so  much  atten- 
tion, but  her  ready  impulses  carried  her  along. 

"There  was  a  girl  over  in  Smoketown,"  Katy  spoke,  "who 
wanted  to  sell  herself  to  te  divel" — Katy  here  seemed  to  be  saying 
"  The  Words  "  again  an  instant — "  she  wanted  to  pe  rich  and  not  to 
work ;  she  thought  she  was  a  lady,  and  not  a  poor  Dutch  girl.  So 
she  asked  her  mother  to  let  her  sell  herself  to  te  little  lame  man. 
Her  mother  told  her  to  go  sit  by  te  spring  and  say : 

•  I  want  clothes,  and  I  want  gold  ; 
I  want  nefer  to  pe  old ; 
I  want  peauty  as  long  as  I  can — 
Gif  it  to  me,  little  lame  man  ! ' " 

"  What  a  nice  wish  ! "  exclaimed  Nelly  Harbaugh. 

"Ho  te  little  lame  man  came  right  to  te  spring,  and  he  said, 
*  P?t  your  right  hand  on  te  top  of  your  head.'  She  put  it  there. 
'  Put  your  left  hand  on  the  soles  of  your  feet,'  said  he.  She  was 
sitting  down,  and  she  did  that,  too.  *  Now,'  said  te  lame  man,  '  you 
must  say,  "All  that  is  between  my  two  hands  belongs  to  te  divel."  ' 
She  started  to  say  it,  and  had  got  to  te  last  word,  when  her  mother 
ran  there  and  shouted  '  God/  '  so  she  lost  the  words  and  said, 
'  All  that  is  between  my  two  hands  belongs  to — God  ! '  Te  little 
lame  man  run  back  to  Smoketown  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry 
him." 


LOVE  AMONG    THE    SPOOKS. 


41 


"  But  didn't  the  girl  get  any  nice  clothes,  or  anything,  for  being 
so  good  ?  "  asked  Nelly. 

"  She  got,"  said  Katy,  blushing,  "  a  good  husband,  my  mother 
told  me,  if  he  was  a  poor  young  man." 

"  Dot  Shmoketown,"  cried  Atzerodt,  "  is  an  ole  Shpooktown,  py 
Jing !  I  come  along  tare  one  night  purty  trunk,  riding  a  horse,  and 
joost  as  I  crossed  te  leetle  stream  dis  side  of  Shmoketown  an  begun 
to  climb  te  mountain  road  dat  comes  dis  way,  and  had  got  into  de 
glen  petween  te  Short  Mountain  an  te  Plue  Ridge,  I  see  pefore  me 
a  black  man  with  a  white  face  like  a  chiny  plate.  I  said  to  my- 
self, '  Py  Jing,  any  company  is  petter  dan  none ! '  So  I  jined  te 
black  feller,  and  he  was  de  nicest  feller  I  ever  did  know ;  he  was 
rale  shentlemans. 

"  Says  he  :  '  It's  cold  ;  we'll  drink  together  ! '  He  handed  me  a 
flask.  When  I  got  done  trinkin',  tere  was  another  man  riding  with  us. 

"  As  we  come  up  te  mountain  through  te  chestnut  forest,  te  moon 
shined  on  te  road,  an  efery  time  we  took  another  trink,  tere  was 
another  man  on  horsepack,  till,  py  Jing  !  I  counted  apout  nine  men, 
and  de  last  man  was  a  woman. 

"  Tey  all  seemed  to  know  te  black  man  with  te  white  face  ;  he 
was  a  rale  shentlemans. 

"  He  made  speeches  out  of  pooks  and  drilled  us  like  a  solcher 
company,  and  we  charged  at  a  gallop,  an  rode  company-face,  an 
right-countermarch,  an  had  a  good  time,  py  Jing !  I  guess  I  was 
purty  trunk." 

"  You're  not  far  from  it  now,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh. 

Atzerodt  looked  into  the  darker  parts  of  the  room  apprehen- 
sively yet  saucily,  and  continued  : 

"  We  got  most  to  te  top  of  te  Plue  Ridge,  when  te  black  man 
said, '  Who's  dat  long  feller  amongst  te  horses  ?  ' 

"  There  was  a  man  walkin'  in  te  road.  He  was  a  long  miJi  in 
black  clothes.  He  looked  up  and  powed  and  said,  '  Good-evening, 
friends  ;  we're  'most  home  ! '  '  Te  devil  you  are  ! '  said  te  black  man 
with  te  white  face. 

"  We  rode  along  awhile  till  te  captain,  as  I'll  call  him,  begun 
whisperin'  to  us  an  saying  :  '  Look  at  dat  feller  !  He's  eferywhere  at 
once  ;  he's  on  dat  side,  and  on  dis  side,  and  petween  our  horses,  and 
I  pelieve  he's  joost  a  devil.     Let's  ride  over  him  ! ' 

"  So  we  looked,  an  tere  he  was,  right  amongst  te  horses,  dis 
side,  dat  side,  not  a  pit  afraid — " 


42 


KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 


"  Oh,  don't,"  spoke  Katy,  "  don't  tell  us  the  rest  unless  it's  good." 

"  Go  to  bed,  Andrew,  you  desperate,  brave  man,"  Lloyd  Ouan- 
trell  said,  drawing  his  arm  tighter  around  Katy. 

"  Yes,"  Luther  Bosler  added,  "  it's  late,  and  this  stor)^  is  too 
long." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh ;  "  I  want  to  know  what  became 
of  the  black  man  with  the  white  face." 

"  '  Let's  ride  over  him  !  '  said  te  captain.  '  All  right,  py  Jing  ! ' 
says  L 

"  '  No,'  says  some,  '  he's  a  nice  ole  man,  and  he  says  he's  'most 
home.' 

" '  Put  it  to  vote ! '  says  te  black  man  with  te  white  face. 

"  Py  Jing  !  it  was  a  tie  ;  one  half  was  one  way  and  one  half  was 
te  oder  way. 

"  •  Leave  it  to  te  woman  ! '  says  te  captain." 

"  That  was  the  right  way,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  said.  "  The  women 
are  always  for  pity,  Katy." 

"  Te  woman,"  concluded  Atzerodt,  "  looked  a  leetle  queer  an 
said  nothing  till  te  black  an  white  man  rode  to  her  side  and  looked 
at  her  like  a  rale  shentlemans.  Den  she  leaned  over  an'  kissed  him, 
and  she  joost  yelled,  '  Charge  ! '  " 

Excited  with  the  recital  and  the  drink,  Atzerodt  had  arisen  un- 
steadily as  he  shouted  this  last  word. 

"  '  Charge  ! '  yelled  te  woman,  and  on  we  put,  py  Jing  !  to  tram- 
ple dat  long  man  in  te  road. 

"  The  first  ting  I  knowed,  we  was  at  te  steep  edge  of  te  mount- 
ain, and  te  captain  rode  right  over.  Down,  down  he  went,  and 
efery  feller  after  him,  and  last  of  all,  for  my  horse  had  stumpled — " 

"  Ah !  ah  !  Andrew,"  spoke  Lloyd,  "  surely,  with  your  splendid 
courage,  you  were  not  in  the  rear  ?  " 

"  I  was  pitched  off  te  horse  joost  pefore  he  jumped  over,  and  I 
was  fallin',  too,  but  I  see  te  long  man  lyin'  in  te  road,  an'  I  took  hold 
of  his  hand  to  save  myself. 

"  Te  moon  showed  him  lyin'  there  dead,  all  cut  with  te  horseshoes. 
Te  hand  I  took  was  slippery  with  something,  and  I  couldn't  git  a 
tight  hold  of  it." 

"  Not  with  your  stalwart  fist,  Andrew  ?  "  exclaimed  Lloyd. 

"  I  couldn't  git  hold  of  it,"  said  Atzerodt,  with  a  changed  and  low- 
ered tone,  "  because  his  hand  was  bloody.  So  down  I  went,  hun- 
dreds of  feet,  and  next  mornin'  tere  I   was  found  underneath  te 


LOVE  AMONG    THE   SPOOKS.  43 

mountain,  and  Nelly  Harbaugh  was  py  me.  Py  Jing !  ain't  it  so, 
Nelly?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Nelly,  after  a  pause,  "  it  was  last  April ;  he  was 
coming  to  see  me  to  m.ake  me  marry  him.  I  went  out  to  hunt  him, 
and  there  I  found  him  asleep  in  the  road,  and  his  horse  going  loose. 
So  I  woke  him  up  and  sent  him  to  the  right-about." 

"  Py  Jing !  "  exclaimed  the  tipsy  man,  tears  of  various  origin  com- 
ing to  his  eyes,  "  I'm  come  agin  to-day,  Nelly,  to  ask  you  to  pe  my 
wife.  Don't  say  '  No.'  You'll  preak  me  all  up.  I  have  got  a  shop  at 
Port  Tobacco,  and  all  te  work  I  want,  but  I  can't  keep  sober  unless 
you  marry  me.  Come,  make  me  a  home !  You  needn't  work  in  te 
fields  no  more.  I'll  save  you  from  want,  and  you'll  save  me  from 
wickedness.     Oh,  I'll  promise  eferything  !  " 

"  It's  worth  considering,  Nelly,"  Luther  Bosler  remarked,  with 
grave  emotion.     "  He's  a  good  mechanic." 

"  Take  the  candle  and  go  to  bed,"  commanded  Nelly  Harbaugh, 
looking  at  Atzerodt ;  "  if  you  intend  to  obey  me,  begin  now.  I  will 
not  give  you  an  answer  till  you  are  sober." 

She  stood,  beautiful  and  tall,  with  her  blue  eyes  full  of  care  yet 
spirit,  like  one  with  resources  but  in  doubt. 

"  Oh,  to-night,"  pleaded  Atzerodt,  "  or  I  may  dream  agin  !  " 

"  To-morrow,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh,  pointing  to  the  door. 

The  common  fellow,  in  whom  seemed  some  real  sensibility  now, 
took  the  candle  and  staggered  meekly  toward  the  entrance. 

"  Kiss  good-night !  "  he  muttered  unsteadily. 

"  You  are  not  obeying  me,"  answered  Nelly  Harbaugh. 

He  threw  open  the  door  leading  into  the  night  and  stopped,  with 
a  trembling  of  the  candle  he  held  up,  and  the  words,  "  It's  dark, 
Nelly  !  " 

"  Now,  now,  Andrew  ! "  Lloyd  Quantrell  cried,  "  I  know  you're 
not  afraid  to  go  to  bed  alone." 

"  You're  a  loafer,"  shouted  Atzerodt  in  sudden  rage,  uttering  an 
oath.     *'  You'll  pe  no  good  to  Katy  !  " 

Lloyd  made  a  push  for  the  door,  and  Atzerodt  fled,  slamming  it 
behind  him. 

"  The  cur  !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd  Quantrell,  throwing  his  arm  around 
Katy,  who  had  followed  him.     "  You  know  he  slanders  me,  Katy." 

"  Oh,  he  must,"  Katy  said,  "  you  are  such  a  gentleman  !  " 

Her  brother's  eyes  followed  Katy  tenderly  to  the  fire,  as  if  to  re- 
assure her  of  their  guest's  good  character  ;  and  then  seeing  her,  with- 


44 


KATY   OF  CATOCTJN. 


out  affront,  caressed  by  the  so  recent  acquaintance,  Luther  turned  to 
Nelly  Harbaugh,  who  had  sunk  into  one  of  the  wooden  chairs. 

"  What  will  you  answer  Andrew  to-morrow,  Nelly?  " 

"  Whatever  you  say." 

"  Do  you  love  him  }  " 

"  Luther,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  as  a  great  sob  escaped  from  her 
throat,  "  there  is  but  one  I  love  :  you  know  it." 

"  If  I  could  make  you  happy,"  Luther  replied,  "  I  would  marry 
you.  Your  great  beauty  makes  up  for  your  poverty,  Nelly.  I  haf 
a  good  farm  next  to  father's.     Could  I  tepend  upon  your  opedi- 


ence 


"  For  life,  Luther !  You  are  the  only  man  I  would  obey  with 
joy." 

"  Girls  nowadays,  Nelly,  looks  at  a  man  as  a  slave  to  gratify 
all  their  follies.  My  wife  must  do  her  part  in  toil  and  saving  as  our 
mothers  did.     Can  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  Luther,  I  can  for  you,  I  believe." 

"  I  haf  loved  you  a  year,"  said  Luther,  deliberately.    "  Kiss  me ! " 

Little  Katy  rose  from  her  lover's  side  and  came  forward. 

"  Oh,  what  a  night  of  happiness  !  "  she  cried.  "  Hiresht  se,  Lu- 
ther? Marry  and  call  Nelly  'wife.'  I  hoped  you  would,  for  Nelly 
is  willful.     But  she  is  beautiful,  too." 

After  Katy  kissed  them  both,  her  friend,  with  a  moment's  care, 
exclaimed : 

"  Luther,  will  you  hitch  up  your  horse  and  buggy  and  drive  me 
home?  " 

"  Now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  not  want  to  face  that  man  to-morrow.  He  may  be 
dangerous." 

"  Andrew?  Why,  stay  and  tell  him.    Be  up  and  down  about  it." 

"No,"  said  Nelly,  firmly,  "I  do  not  want  to  see  him.  He  has 
once  before  threatened  me,  and,  though  he  is  a  coward,  he  is  unsafe. 
Tell  him,  Katy,  from  me,  '  Good-by  forever.'  " 

Her  face  expressed  decision  yet  apprehension.  Luther  stepped 
out,  and  soon  came  to  the  door  with  the  buggy. 

"  Nelly,"  he  said,  putting  on  his  hat  and  big  over-jacket,  "  it 
looks  as  if  I  had  pegun  to  obey  _>'<?«." 

"  To-morrow,  Katy,"  exclaimed  Nelly,  nervously,  "  we  will  meet 
you  and  Lloyd  at  the  forks  of  the  road  this  side  of  the  mountain, 
going  to  meeting." 


DOGS  AND   HOUNDS. 


45 


Lloyd  Quantrell,  as  the  door  closed  upon  them,  drew  Katy  to  his 
heart  again. 

"  Beloved,"  he  murmured  to  her,  "  who  would  have  thought  it 
this  morning?  That  my  empty,  hungry  heart  would  now  be  full? 
That  you,  dear  child,  were  waiting  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  love  you,  Lloyd,"  said  Katy.  "  I  hope  te  Lord  sent  you  to 
me.  Come,  put  your  right  hand  on  your  head  and  this  left  hand 
under  the  sole  of  your  foot,  and  say  after  me,  '  All  petween  my 
two  hands  pelongs  to  God  ! '  " 

"  All  between  my  two  hands  belongs  to  God,"  Lloyd  Quantrell 
repeated. 

"  Good-night,  Lloyd." 

She  slipped  from  his  ardent  grasp. 

As  they  gave  the  long,  wistful  kiss  of  faith  and  future,  pain  and 
gladness,  life  and  love,  a  door  opened  and  Jake  Bosler  poked  his 
head  down  the  stairs,  and  saw  them  clasped  together,  without  re- 
proof. 

"  Soon-up,"  Jake  uttered,  sleepily.    "  Bi'm-by." 


CHAPTER   VL 

DOGS   AND    HOUNDS. 

Looking  through  the  small  stone  windows  of  his  sleeping-room, 
as  soon  as  he  was  awakened  by  the  big  bell,  Lloyd  Quantrell  saw 
the  red  and  white  spires  of  Middletown  peeping  low  to  the  south, 
and  the  bounding  profile  of  the  Blue  Ridge  overlap  itself  like  ele- 
phants marching,  and  the  Catoctin  Mountain  to  the  east  leap  out 
of  the  plain  like  a  boy's  ball  bouncing  forward  and  falling  again. 

The  Sunday  morning  dawn  touched  the  high  summits  and  crests 
of  this  double  panorama  with  gilt  as  if  it  was  the  picture-frame, 
while  between,  just  warming  with  the  light,  white  farm-houses  and 
gray  barns,  straight  yellow-corn  rows,  sheep  with  brown  backs,  and 
next  year's  wheat  just  spearing  above  the  pebbly  swells,  made  the 
valley  of  the  Catoctin  seem  itself  another  mountain,  only  kept  down 
by  its  abundance. 

Jake  Bosler  opened  the  latchless  door  without  knocking,  and 
entered  with  Lloyd's  clothes  dried  and  pressed. 


46 


KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  Soon-down.  Bi'm-by  !  "  Jake  said,  looking  at  Atzerodt  asleep 
upon  the  floor. 

"  Who  pressed  these  clothes  so  well,  Jake  ?     Katy,  I  think  ?  " 

"  Yaw;  she  shtayed  oop  last  naucht,  Lloyd,  to  git  tern  purty." 

"  God  bless  her !  "  cried  Lloyd.  "  And  you,  too,  Jake,  for  being 
her  father." 

"  Oh,  yaw,  Lloyd,"  Jake  Bosler  said,  taking  the  proffered  hand 
humbly.  "  Katy's  my  letsht — te  last,  I  mean,  Lloyd.  Luter,  he's 
engaged  now  to  Nelly  Harbaugh." 

The  man  lying  on  the  floor,  in  the  second  feather-bed,  muttered 
here : 

"  I  can't  keep  soper  unless  you  marry  me.  Come,  Nelly !  make 
me  a  home." 

"  T'zu  shpoat,"  Jake  murmured,  "  Nelly  wanted  Luter ;  Antrew 
wanted  Nelly.  When  Antrew  went  to  ped,  Nelly  took  Luter.  I 
don't  knows  not'ing  about  it." 

"  Nelly  took  Luter  !  "  Atzerodt  spoke,  rising  upon  his  elbow  and 
looking  through  hot,  dry  eyes. 

Jake  Bosler  looked  still  humbler,  and.  as  he  turned  down  the 
stairs,  said  compassionately : 

"  Soon-up  !     Bi'm-by  !  " 

"  Yes,  poor  fellow,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  answered  for  Jake,  "  wait 
for  sun-up.  Bi'm-by  it  will  shine  bright,  Andrew,  from  another 
pair  of  eyes." 

"  Where  is  she?  "  whispered  Atzerodt. 

"  Luther  took  her  away  last  night.  She  thought  it  would  dis- 
tress both  of  you  to  see  each  other." 

"  O  my  Gott ! " — the  unhappy  man  threw  his  face  into  the  gay 
feather  quilt — "  she  wrote  to  me  to  come  and  marry  her.  Dis  is 
her  letter." 

He  began  to  weep  like  a  broken-hearted  child.  Lloyd  reflected 
that  even  this  unspiritual  being  had  a  heart. 

"  Don't  be  too  hard  on  her,  my  lad,"  he  spoke  ;  "  she's  poor  and 
ambitious.  She  thought  well  of  you,  but  your  coming  has  brought 
the  man  she  loved  most,  to  the  popping-point  at  last." 

Atzerodt  finished  his  fit  of  weeping  and  rose  up. 

"  Gif  me  a  drink  !  "  he  pleaded,  "  I  can't  eat  none.  I'll  git  on  te 
road  an  tramp  agin." 

"  Pull  at  it  light,  Andrew,"  Lloyd  interrupted,  as  he  saw  the 
deep  draught  the  other  took. 


DOGS  AND  HOUNDS. 


47 


"  She  said  she'd  gif  me  her  answer  when  I  got  soper,"  Atzerodt 
exclaimed,  pulling  his  slouched  hat  over  his  brows ;  "  she's  run  away 
from  her  promise.     I'll  never  pe  soper  agin,  so  help  me  Gott ! " 

Again  bursting  into  a  wail  and  tears,  he  went  down  the  steps 
and  reappeared  from  the  barn,  riding  a  horse.  Pausing  a  moment 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  looking  fiercely  back,  he  shook  his  fist  and 
shouted : 

"  Gott  tarn  dat  house  an  eferypody  in  it ! " 

Then,  with  a  cruel  blow  at  his  horse,  and  another  sob  and  gush 
of  tears,  he  galloped  away. 

"  Dutch,  Dutch  !  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  said  ;  "  not  fit  to  have  a  wife. 
Yet  the  fine  Swisser  did  deceive  him.  She  is  a  Dutch  Venus ;  I 
might  have  won  her  instead  of  Katy.  Dare  I  marry  either  }  Well, 
I  can  be  in  love." 

He  took  his  gun  and  game-bag  to  carry  them  away.  The  dove 
was  still  in  the  game-bag,  and  he  brought  it  out  and  looked  at  it 
again. 

"  By  George ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  Albion  did  point  at  little  Katy, 
truly,  just  as  he  nosed  this  poor  little  bird.  If  I  lived  long  among 
the  Dutch  I  would  get  to  believe  in  ghosts." 

Katy  was  finishing  the  setting  of  the  table,  and  she  went  up  and 
kissed  Lloyd  before  her  father. 

"  I  reckon  you  think  I'm  familiar  for  a  stranger,  Jake,"  Lloyd 
said. 

"  How  else  would  you  git  acquainted  ?  "  queried  Katy's  father. 

"  I  told  /adder  you  was  my  peau,"  Katy  said,  blushing. 

"  Yaw,"  Jake  said,  "  if  Katy  didn't  tell  her  olt  dawdy  when  she 
was  happy,  how  could  he  pe  glad  ?  " 

Katy  spread  her  hands  over  the  table  and  said  the  blessing  in 
English,  and  Jake  Bosler  ended  it  with  Amen. 

"  Lloyd,"  asked  Jake,  after  Katy  had  helped  them  to  coffee  and 
ham  and  eggs,  "  what  religion  is  you  ?     Is  you  Baptist  or  not  ?  " 

"  I'm  a  poor  sinner,  Jake.  I  was  brought  up  a  Catholic.  That's 
how  I  was  educated.  My  father  is  a  convert ;  my  mother  was  a 
Methodist." 

"  Any  religion  is  petter  dan  none,  Lloyd.  Us  Paptists  was  pe- 
fore  Martin  Luter.  We  asks  all  to  come  to  te  Lord's  supper  and 
to  pe  our  friends." 

A  big  wagon,  with  clean  straw  in  the  bottom,  drawn  by  two 
great  gray  horses,  Jake  Bosler  drove  to  the  door  and  cried,  "  Git  in. 


48 


KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 


Lloyd."     Little  Katy  had  a  bundle  with  her  and  a  large  basket,  and 
Lloyd  threw  in  his  gun  and  kit. 

"Stop,"  said  Lloyd,  as  they  started  off;  "won't  you  lock  the 
house  up  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Lloyd,"  replied  Jake,  "  nobody  steals  up  this  a-way, 
pecause  nobody  is  lazy,  and  the  poor  is  a-welcome." 

Jake  Bosler's  cattle  in  the  bottoms  looked  up  to  see  them  go — 
those  roan,  red,  white,  and  speckled  cattle,  calling  "  moo  "  so  ten- 
derly, and  each  with  the  great  mild  Bosler  eyes ;  and  the  turkeys, 
now  fattening,  sat  under  the  cherry-trees  in  their  white  bodies  with 
wings  of  gold  and  red  and  breasts  of  black,  all  agitated  that  Katy 
was  going ;  the  peacock  spread  his  tail  of  eyes  and  fashions,  and 
broke  his  heart  in  one  long  sob  of  protest ;  and  pea  fowls  and  Guinea- 
hens,  cocks  and  pullets,  came  trooping  from  the  barn  to  see  the 
face  which  fed  them  smiles,  as  her  hands  had  given  them  food,  go 
away  but  for  a  day. 

Along  the  row  of  cherry-trees,  by  a  little  mill-race  flowing  in  the 
clover,  near  hedges  of  the  new  Osage  orange  from  the  blood-red  fields 
of  Kansas,  and  where  gum-trees  matched  the  sycamores  in  strength 
in  some  old  sedgy  pasture,  they  rolled  in  the  reddish  road,  and  now 
and  then  saw  the  Catoctin  Mountain's  purple-green  sides,  and  black 
crest  and  yellowing  foliage,  bound  up  and  fall. 

At  the  first  little  hamlet  they  turned  their  backs  upon  the  Catoc- 
tin range  and  faced  the  South  Mountain  to  the  northwest,  and  Katy 
at  the  little  towns  pointed  out  the  United  Brethren  and  the  Lutheran 
churches  ready  for  worship. 

Going  between  the  high,  billowy  corn-hills  to  cross  the  main  Ca- 
toctin Creek,  they  rose  upon  a  bold  mound  in  their  way,  and  only 
three  miles  ahead  saw  their  road  scale  the  Blue  Ridge,  which,  like  a 
giant  child  playing  through  the  sky,  showed  dimples  of  turning 
foliage  in  his  austere  countenance,  and  grace  and  sweetness  nursed 
by  storm. 

Near  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  at  a  road  coming  in  from  the 
north,  Luther  Bosler  and  Nelly  Harbaugh  were  waiting  in  a  buggy. 

Nelly  now  had  a  dress  of  bright  colors  and  a  straw  hat  of  city 
jauntiness  trimmed  with  natural  flowers,  and  Lloyd  smiled  to  see, 
as  she  put  her  straight  foot  from  the  buggy,  that  she  wore  hoops 
and  flounces. 

"  Katy,"  he  said  to  his  little  girl,  who  sat  in  a  black  Dunker  hood 
and  cape  and  gown,  her  hair  plaited  down  her  back,  and  her  white 


DOGS  AND  HOUNDS. 


49 


Dunker  cap  transparent  at  her  little  ears,  "  why  don't  you  dress 
like  Nelly?" 

"  I  am  not  so  peautiful,"  Katy  said,  looking  down  at  her  dark 
gown  and  white  apron,  "  and,  Lloyd,  I  want  to  love  God,  who  has 
let  you  love  me." 

"  My  child,"  Lloyd  said,  not  repelling  some  tears  which  came  to 
his  eyes,  "  why  do  you  not  see  the  wicked  fellow  I  am  and  turn 
away  from  me  ?     I  am  not  worthy  of  your  pure  heart,  Katy ! " 

"  Yes,  you  are,"  Katy  said  ;  "  maybe  I  can  pring  you  to  God  if  I 
try  hard.     What  else  is  woman  for  ?  " 

The  tears  came  again  and  yet  again  to  the  young  man's  eyes ; 
at  last  they  streamed  upon  his  cheeks,  and  he  felt  them  dropping 
like  blood  from  a  fresh  wound  into  his  hands,  as  he  held  his  palms 
open  and  thought  they  would  fill.  It  was  the  first  mention  of  God, 
the  first  affection  bestowed  upon  him,  so  hungry-hearted,  since  his 
Christian  mother's  death. 

Katy  threw  her  arms  around  him  and  drew  his  head  upon  h  er 
little  neck. 

"  Tese  is  love-feast  tears,"  she  said.  "  Our  Saviour  made  tern 
holy,  darling,  at  his  last  supper.  Come,  take  it  with  me  to-day  and 
pe  happy." 

He  sobbed  so  hard  he  could  not  speak :  a  past  world  of  love 
now  faded  in  the  grave,  another  world  of  fatherly  affection  he  had 
sought  but  could  not  find  ;  recollections  of  prayers  long  taught  but 
long  unuttered,  of  gentle  feelings  brutalized  by  coarse  city  contacts, 
of  the  sense  of  home  not  yet  obliterated  but  blunted,  and  of  being 
at  this  moment  too  well,  too  nobly,  if  humbly  beloved,  stirred  all  the 
nature  of  the  young  man  up  and  melted  into  rills  of  tears  the  ice  in 
caverns  long  denied  the  air. 

"  My  God  !  "  he  spoke  at  last,  "  can  love  do  this  }  Was  I  ex- 
perimenting with  love,  and  finding  such  religion  } — Katy,"  he  sud- 
denly looked  up  and  pushed  her  from  him,  "you  must  let  me 
go!" 

"  Nefer,  now,"  said  Katy,  looking  with  all  her  heart  and  great 
deep  eyes  upon  him, — "  God,  gif  me  this  soul,  and  let  it  feed  with  me 
of  thy  supper  and  drink  thy  precious  blood  !  " 

Coming  to  the  wagon  to  find  Lloyd  in  tears  and  Katy  clinging 
to  him,  Luther  Bosler  exclaimed  : 

"  Wass  treibsht  olla  weil?     Are  you  two  quarreling  }  " 

"  No,  Luther,"  answered  Lloyd,  wiping  his  eyes  ;  "  Katy  is  trying 
3 


so 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


to  make  something  good  out  of  me.  Yonder  mountains  ought  to 
be  between  us." 

"  '  Faith,'  "  observed  Luther,  mildly,  "  '  can  remove  mountains,'  it 
says.     Let  us  cross  them  together." 

He  took  the  reins,  and  Nelly  Harbaugh  sat  by  him,  and  so  they 
slowly  w^ent  up  the  pebbly  mountain-road,  old  Jake  going  before  in 
the  buggy,  with  the  parting  words  : 

"  Love-feast.     Bi'm-by  I  " 

Sitting  with  his  arm  around  Katy,  and  with  sweetly  troubled 
feelings,  yet  manlier  than  he  had  ever  known,  Lloyd  looked  back 
into  Catoctin  Valley  and  remarked  : 

"  Luther,  why  can't  I  see  the  houses  and  towns  now  ?  " 

"  Because  te  upper  valley  is  hilly  and  tey  puilt  te  houses  py  te 
springs  petween  te  hills.  But  tey  is  all  tere,  Lloyd,  and  whoefer  has 
pusiness  with  tem  can  find  tem.  When  their  country  calls  for  tern, 
up  will  run  te  flag  eferywheres  and  pe  peautiful." 

"  We'll  be  there,  Luther,  won't  we  ?  This  great,  free  Union  is 
worth  fighting  for  !  " 

"  Yes,  Lloyd.  A  pity  it  ain't  free,  too,  and  ten,  I  think,  we 
should  always  have  peace." 

"What  a  singular  Dutchman!"  Lloyd  thought  to  himself. 
"What  he  says  seems  eloquent,  because  he  is  so  honest.  How 
came  he  to  be  so  grave  and  parental  ?  I  am  not  so.  He  is  like  a 
father  to  his  father  because,.  I  suppose,  he  is  so  good  a  son.  My 
father !   Why  will  he  not  give  me  his  confidence  ?   Do  I  deser\'e  it  ?  " 

"  I  live  yonder  where  the  hills  are  all  rocky  and  wild,  past  Wolfs- 
ville,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh,  pointing  north.  "  Mount  Misery,  where 
the  counterfeiters  had  their  cave  in  the  Revolutionary  War,  is  close  by 
me.  The  Tories  hid  there,  too,  that  were  caught  and  hanged.  I'm 
bad  root,  Lloyd,"  blushed  Nelly,  with  a  deep  look  on  Luther. 

"  The  heart  is  the  true  rest,"  Luther  said.  "  Keep  that  steady, 
and  your  pad  ancestors  will  not  trouble  you.  But  whose  dogs 
are  those  ?  ' 

He  pointed  back,  and  coming  together  in  the  road  were  Fritz 
and  Albion,  the  latter  leading  on,  as  if  he  had  proposed  the  excur- 
sion ;  Fritz  hanging  back,  yet  looking  at  the  carriage  sturdily,  as 
ready  to  take  his  reproof. 

"YxWi^iuo  gaesht  hee  ?  "  spoke  Luther,  without  temper,  to  his 
dog,  but  looking  serious,  and  stopping  the  horses  on  the  mountain- 
top. 


DOGS  AND  HOUNDS. 


51 


The  Sugar-Loaf  Mountain  far  away  was  peeping  hazily  over  the 
giant  ramparts  of  Catoctin,  and  up  from  the  depths  behind  them 
followed  the  solemn  green  woods  to  where,  upon  this  summit,  lay 
ledges  of  sandstone,  and  the  oak  and  chestnut  trees  shook  with  a 
coming  tempest  of  wind  and  rain. 

Fritz  came  straight  up  to  the  carriage,  looked  at  Luther  unhap- 
pily, and  barked. 

The  city  dog,  with  a  vicious  barking  at  Lloyd,  took  to  the  wood- 
side  and  disappeared  ahead  in  the  road. 

"  Evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners,  Luther,"  Lloyd 
said.     "  My  dog  has  tempted  yours  away." 

"Fritz,"  spoke  Luther  to  his  dog,  shaking  his  head,  "was  not  in 
the  hapit  of  leafing  home,  where  he  is  my  friend  and  guard." 

The  dog  came  right  up  under  the  whip  and  barked  with  an  ex- 
citement above  apprehension,  as  if  to  say,  "  Whip  me,  but  spare  my 
pride !" 

"  Unfortunate  dog !  "  exclaimed  Luther,  but  more  tenderly.  "  Can 
I  do  anything  put  send  him  home  }  " 

The  dog  started  back  with  head  down,  needing  no  further  hu- 
miliation. 

"  Stop,  Fritz  !  "  Luther  continued,  his  face  lighting  up,  "  does  any 
person  here  speak  for  this  tisopedient  friend  of  mine,  who  has,  per- 
haps, peen  under  pad  atvice  to-day  ?  " 

The  dog  had  stopped,  and  when  both  Katy  and  Lloyd  cried 
"  Yes,  do  forgive  him  !  "  and  Luther  replied,  "  Very  well,  then,"  the 
dog  took  his  place  meekly  under  the  wagon,  and  they  entered  the 
summit  forest. 

The  winding  road-track  through  the  fallen  chestnut-leaves  and 
stone-heaps  reminded  them  of  Atzerodt's  story,  as  they  saw  the 
pale,  lemon-yellow  leaves  twirl  in  the  rising  gust  like  witches  in  a 
circle,  and  the  squirrels  run  when  mischievous  lightning  chased  them 
from  tree  to  tree.  The  clean  trunks  arose  smoothly  from  stony 
ledges,  and,  ever  young  in  form  and  foliage,  though  in  their  autumn 
days,  the  chestnut  forest  had  an  appearance  pleasing  even  now  in 
the  grasp  of  coming  storm.  Something  of  the  light  and  straight 
nature  of  the  French  was  in  it,  tender  in  greenness,  comely  in  ma- 
turity, engaging  in  the  burr,  and  toothsome  in  the  nut.  However 
lofty  the  mighty  shafts  might  rise,  though  monarchs  of  the  forest, 
they  had  the  complaisance  and  sentiment  of  kings  in  France. 

Nothing  crossed  their  way  but  wood-cutters'  paths  barely  trace- 


52 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


able  through  the  translucent  goldness  of  the  trees  and  litter,  and  the 
rail-splitters'  piles  and  chips  seemed  only  larger  yellow  leaves  and 
ferns  that  strewed  the  vistas.  A  cool,  small  cedar-tree  occasionally 
appeared,  like  a  green  parasol  in  the  bright  sunshine  ;  but  nothing  of 
man  or  domestic  beast  broke  the  Sabbath  stillness  of  the  mountain- 
tops — hardly  the  eagle  yonder,  so  near  overhead  he  almost  touched 
the  trees,  like  Jove  taking  his  jealous  watch  and  throwing  from  his 
eyes  upon  the  woods  below  the  citron  glisten  of  Olympus. 

•'  See  !  "  whispered  Nelly  Harbaugh  to  Luther,  "  yonder  are  men 
— negroes — runaway  slaves.  There's  money  for  catching  them, 
Luther!     Quick!" 

Across  the  road,  not  fifty  yards  before,  passed  two  black  men, 
one  carrying  the  other. 

The  younger  was  barefooted  and  had  no  coat,  and  limped  as  he 
labored  under  the  older  man's  weight. 

The  old  man  seemed  in  the  palsy  of  fear,  or  age,  or  disease,  and, 
as  he  saw  the  carriage  coming  and  women  in  it,  a  habit  of  courtesy, 
too  old  to  be  forgotten,  made  him  take  off  the  old  straw  hat  he  wore 
and  bow  almost  idiotically  and  make  a  chattering  noise. 

Attracted  by  the  movement,  the  young  man  turned  and  saw  the 
carriage,  and  at  a  run,  still  limping,  he  bore  the  old  man  into  the 
woods,  flying  to  the  north. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Nelly,  "  they're  gone ;  we  might  have  caught  them. 
Along  this  mountain  they  travel  at  nights.  It's  hardly  thirty  miles 
across  Maryland  to  the  free  State.  We  have  got  people  here  who 
hve  by  catching  them  and  get  hundreds  of  dollars  reward." 

"And  a  millstone  it  will  pe  around  their  necks,"  exclaimed 
Luther. 

"  I  reckon  so,  too,"  Lloyd  said.  "  Niggers  oughtn't  to  run  away, 
but  let  somebody  else  than  me  do  the  catching." 

At  this  moment  the  pointer-dog,  Albion,  reappeared  out  of  the 
place  in  the  woods  where  the  fugitives  first  emerged,  and  his  deli- 
cate brown  kid  nose  was  trailing  something. 

"  Hist !  "  cried  Lloyd  ;  "  come  here,  Albion  !  " 

Raising  his  head  only  to  bark  ill-naturedly,  and  striving  to  lick 
his  torn  ear  once,  the  white  and  yellow  pointer  dropped  to  the  scent 
again  and  darted  into  the  opposite  woods,  barking. 

"  I  hope  he  won't  petray  those  poor  fellows,"  Luther  said,  "  but 
we  can't  stop  for  him,  for  te  rain  is  coming  hard,  and  tere's  no  shel- 
ter till  we  get  to  Smoketown." 


DOGS  AND  HOUNDS. 


53 


"  Oh,"  cried  Nelly  Harbaugh, "  stop  there  at  the  fortune-teller's  !  " 

The  storm  now  burst  in  half-sunny  nonchalance  upon  the  mount- 
ain they  were  on,  and  yet,  while  its  lightnings  leaped  vengefully  here, 
the  parallel  mountain,  beyond  the  gorge  they  were  overhanging, 
seemed  to  be  serene  as  Sabbath,  and  through  the  mist  of  sheet- 
rain,  at  pauses,  they  could  see  its  happy  countenance  of  chestnut 
woods  and  sulphur-tinted  leaves,  waiting  like  one  beatified  martyr 
for  another  to  pass  through  his  fires. 

With  cool,  executioner-like  method,  the  spirits  of  the  storm 
whipped  the  longer  mountain's  back  with  rods  of  forked  fire  until 
it  smoked,  and  the  sound  of  riven  trees  beneath  the  thunderbolts 
seemed  like  the  broken  rods  of  Pilate's  soldiery  shivered  upon  the 
unanswering  Pioneer.  Yet,  sometimes  red  as  blood,  the  electric 
current  flowed  along  the  hairy  woodlands  till  rain,  like  floods  of 
tears  from  heaven,  streamed  down  to  cool  the  mountain's  anguish, 
and  groans,  from  none  knew  where,  feebly  or  wail-like  accompanied 
the  tempest. 

The  road  grew  black ;  the  steady  gray  wagon-horses  shrank  as  if 
they  would  crawl  upon  their  bellies ;  dust  and  water,  thunder  and 
flame  mutinied  against  each  other  in  their  common  purpose,  and 
fought  together  without  proceeding,  while  the  great  dike  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  Mountain  buried  itself  in  mystery  or  melted  away. 

"  Why,  this  is  hell,  or  the  portent  of  it ! "  Lloyd  Quantrell  spoke, 
covering  Katy  with  his  body  and  ^rms. 

"  Say  '  Te  Words,'  Lloyd,"  he  heard  her  whispering,  "and  we  will 
pe  happy." 

"  Steaty,  Jim  !  Steaty,  Sam  !  Holt  steaty,  poys  ! "  Luther  Hos- 
ier's voice  spoke  calmly  ;   "  it  will  soon  pe  ofer." 

A  scream  from  Nelly  Harbaugh  at  this  moment,  and  the  horses 
leaping  in  their  harness  and  striving  to  break  from  the  driver's  prac- 
ticed hands,  were  occasioned  by  a  sight  in  the  road  which  seemed 
almost  supernatural :  a  strange,  half-transparent,  rose-colored  mist, 
like  lava  dissolved  in  wine,  sprang  up  as  if  the  lightning  had  been 
distilled  and  held  a  long  moment  in  atmospheric  solution,  and 
through  it  were  seen  at  the  horses'  heads  two  men  and  two  large 
hounds,  gazing  up  at  the  carriage,  and  themselves  surprised  as 
much  as  its  occupants. 

The  men  were  burly,  coarse-looking,  neither  good  nor  evil  of 
countenance,  and  clearly  people  of  this  world. 

While  the  occupants  of  the  carriage  gazed  at  them  for  a  period 


54  KATY  OF  CATOCTLV. 

of  time  measured  only  by  its  vividness  upon  the  nen^es  and  heart, 
blackness,  as  of  a  cloud,  came  down  again  like  a  mighty  crow  alight- 
ing in  the  road,  and  with  it  a  silence  that  was  the  Sabbath  of  the 
dead. 

Slowly  this  yielded  to  the  influences  of  a  gentle  shower  and  re- 
turning sun,  and  soon  they  saw  the  road  before  them  plainly  open, 
and  the  freshly  twisted  and  prostrate  trees  embarrassing  the  way. 

"  What  made  you  scream,  Nelly  ?  "  asked  Luther,  stooping  to 
kiss  her. 

"  The  slave-catchers,"  cried  Nelly.     "  Didn't  you  see  them  }  " 

"  Did  you  know  their  faces  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes — Lew  and  Ben  Logan.  They  watch  at  nights  and  on 
all  the  stormy  days ;  for  then  the  slaves  are  running.  They're  rich, 
I  reckon." 

"  Not  in  conscience,  I  think,"  mused  Luther,  getting  down  to 
examine  his  harness.  "  We  must  stop  at  te  first  house  in  Smoke- 
town  to  tie  up  this  breeching." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  !  "  Nelly  Harbaugh  exclaimed.  "  That's  Han- 
nah Ritner's,  the  fortune-teller." 

"  Lloyd,"  cried  little  Katy,  "  I  wasn't  frightened  at  all — you  held 
me  so  close.  And  then  you  said '  Te  Words '  last  night,  and  all  your 
body  was  God's." 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

WITCH   OF   SMOKETOWN. 

A  LITTLE  farther  the  South  Mountain  opened  like  an  amphi- 
theatre, and  showed  some  patches  of  fields  and  farms  at  the  base  of 
their  broken  mounds  ;  but  the  landscape  was  yet  ragged  and  almost 
uninhabited  till,  on  the  descending  road  before  them,  some  small 
houses  of  a  poor  appearance  were  finally  seen  straggling  along,  each 
to  itself,  as  if  they  came  together  by  accident  and  had  hardly  discov- 
ered each  other,  so  embowered  were  they  in  fruit-trees,  weeds,  gar- 
dens, and  corn. 

"  There's  Smoketown,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  cried  ;  "  some  calls  it 
Ginny  Winders's  town.  Old  Ginny  keeps  a  groggery  for  the  black- 
berry-pickers, chestnut-sellers,  wood-choppers,  charcoal-burners,  and 
slave-catchers.     Oh,  it's  a  hard  place  !  " 


WITCH  OF  SMOKE  TOWN.  55 

"  I  should  think  so,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  remarked,  looking  at  the 
near  mountains  and  at  a  deep  gorge  behind  him,  like  the  wide-open 
throat  of  a  wild  beast  ready  to  devour  the  scattered  place  ;  "  it  seems 
to  me  to  be  running  away,  like  the  children  in  the  Bible  chased  by 
Elisha's  bears.     Who  is  this  Hannah  Ritner?  " 

"  She's  a  stranger,  but  I  reckon  she's  lived  here  for  years,"  Nelly 
replied ;  "  she's  religious,  and  teaches  the  poor  children  to  spell  and 
to  sew.  Some  say  she's  crazy,  and  that's  why  they  go  to  her  to  get 
their  fortunes  told.     She  tells  them  real  true." 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  first  house  in  the  place  on  the 
right-hand  side— a  small,  very  neat,  whitewashed  cottage,  with  an 
old  blackened  roof,  and  with  a  little  portico  in  front,  the  latter 
covered  with  a  trained  blackberry-vine. 

The  house  stood  in  a  small  arbored  garden,  and  the  mock-orange 
and  gourd  vines  could  be  seen  dropping  their  yellow  or  roan-gold 
fruit  from  these  small  arbors,  and  also  from  the  locust-trees  along 
the  roadside  paling.  Yellow  marigolds  grew  against  the  gable; 
bright  flowers  in  whitewashed  flower-pots  showed  along  the  path 
leading  back  to  the  door  from  the  gate ;  and  a  willow-tree  in  the 
garden  seemed  to  weep  for  an  unmarked  grave  which  was  not 
there. 

The  fruit-trees  and  bean-poles  and  shocked  corn  added  a  look  of 
rankness  and  weediness  in  the  midst  of  such  providence  and  taste, 
and  the  forest  coming  down  from  the  stony  hills  behind,  in  bits  of 
chestnut  thicket  and  brush,  seemed  to  wrap  the  small  cottage  in. 

An  old  stable  was  at  the  edge  of  this  forest,  and  paths  went 
back  from  it  into  the  rain-raveled  mountain-spurs. 

Nothing  else  Lloyd  Quantrell  could  see  but  a  large  preservnng- 
kettle  in  the  garden,  hung  on  a  wooden  crane ;  and  while  he  looked 
at  this,  a  gray  and  yellow  fox,  licking  his  chops  of  sirup,  leaped  up 
from  the  kettle  and  ran  into  the  woods,  followed  hotly  by  Fritz. 

Nelly  Harbaugh  stepped  out  first,  at  the  entrance  of  a  little  lane, 
deeply  shaded  with  cherry  and  plum  trees,  which  crept  back  almost 
mysteriously  to  the  stable ;  a  horse  was  tied  here,  and  she  had 
barely  seen  it  when  a  man  came  through  the  garden  and  stopped 
her  in  the  lane. 

"  Andrew  !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  started  to  run  back. 

"  Nelly !  "  cried  Atzerodt — for  it  was  he— and  he  seized  her  by 
the  wrist. 

The  girl,  a  moment   shrinking,  drew  her  graceful  figure   up 


56  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

haughtily  and  cried,  "  If  you  strike  me,  I'll  have  you  repent  in 
Hagerstown  jail ! " 

"  Going  to  haf  your  fortune  told,  Miss  Nelly  ?  "  muttered  the 
sallow,  outcast  man.     "  I'll  tell  it  to  you,  py  Jing  !  " 

His  lips  trembled  with  excitement.  The  girl  tore  her  arm  away, 
and  with  a  quick  gesture  she  picked  up  a  stick  from  a  flower-pot, 
rending  out  the  deep-red  rose  which  grew  upon  it.  Lloyd  Quan- 
trell  had  quickly  come  upon  the  scene,  and  he  marked  the  fine 
beauty  of  the  girl  thus  impassioned  and  defiant. 

"I  declare,  Nelly,"  he  said,  "you're  as  splendid  now  as  a  great 
actress  on  the  stage  !  " 

The  words  seemed  to  have  a  power  to  arrest  Nelly  Harbaugh's 
attention  even  in  her  apprehensions. 

"  Am  I,  Lloyd  ?  "  she  replied.  "  Oh,  I  would  rather  be  that 
than  anything  in  the  world  !  " 

"  Dat  is  shoost  what  you  are  fit  for,  py  Jing ! "  Atzerodt  broke 
in. — "  Luter  Bosler,  you  got  my  girl ;  she'll  pe  no  good  to  you." 

"  Come,  Antrew,  forget  and  forgive,"  Luther  remarked,  coming 
forward  from  the  horses ;  "  pad  words  putter  no  parsnips." 

He  reached  out  his  hand,  which  the  other  repelled,  and  Atzerodt 
continued  in  a  reckless  yet  suffering  tone : 

"  Luter,  she'll  get  you  in  love  and  preak  your  heart.  She  is 
false  to  eferypody." 

"  You  lie  ! "  exclaimed  the  girl,  herself  the  dangerous  person  now, 
seeking  to  get  past  Quantrell  and  ply  her  stick  on  Atzerodt. 

Lloyd  interposed  good-naturedly. 

*'  She  wants  your  money,  Luter.  She's  a  cold-hearted  Swisser, 
you  pet.  She'll  nefer  marry  you  if  somepody  else  will  gif  her  petter 
clothes.  Your  poor  heart  will  hang  where  mine  is  now,  and  den 
you'll  feel  for  me." 

He  broke  down  in  almost  touching,  though  maudlin  drunken 
misery,  and  the  girl  dropped  her  stake  of  wood  and  pushed  past 
Lloyd  Quantrell. 

"  I  could  not  love  you,"  she  said  to  Atzerodt.  "  You  earn  noth- 
ing ;  you  can  not  support  a  wife.  Never  do  you  come  near  me 
again,  but  say  good-by  forever  now." 

He  called  her  an  ugly  word,  which  he  had  barely  done  when 
Lloyd,  with  a  flat-hand  blow,  struck  him  to  the  grass,  and  stood 
over  him,  saying : 

"  What  do  you  say  before  Katy  ?  " 


WITCH  OF  SMOKETOWN. 


57 


"  Dear  Andrew,"  spoke  Katy,  coming  forward,  "  come  to  church 
at  Beaver  Creek  and  pe  a  petter  man.  If  you  don't  like  us  Dunkers, 
there  is  te  Luteran  church,  and  te  Mennese  church  and  te  Breth- 
ren too,  all  close  together." 

"Nelly  Harbaugh,"  continued  Atzerodt  from  the  ground,  cowed 
but  still  revengeful,  "you'll  nefer  let  me  forgit  you.  Some  day  I'll 
pe  hung  on  te  gallows  for  you,  I  tink." 

He  remained  on  the  wet  ground  with  his  face  in  the  weeds,  and 
all  left  him  there  and  went  forward  to  the  cottage. 

As  they  approached  it  there  was  a  sound  of  musical  water,  and 
across  the  embowered  yard  flowed  a  mountain  stream  so  wide  they 
could  hardly  step  across  it,  and  foaming  now  with  the  rain  which  no 
longer  fell,  but  in  the  sky  a  rainbow  took  its  place  and  spanned  the 
mountain  like  an  arch  of  beauty. 

"My  love,"  spoke  Lloyd,  taking  Katy's  arm,  "the  bow  of  prom- 
ise is  come  already  for  us." 

"  Lloyd,"  she  replied,  "  poor  Andrew  suffers  so,  it  clouds  my 
heart." 

The  cottage  seemed  to  be  empty,  and  consisted  of  only  one 
room  and  a  kitchen,  the  latter  low  as  the  ground,  the  main  room 
higher  and  containing  a  bed,  an  open  Franklin  stove,  and  a  large 
flag-bottomed  rocking-chair  painted  green.  There  was  no  other 
chair,  but  in  a  corner  a  glass-faced  cupboard  contained  Delft  plates 
and  coffee  service,  and  many  bottles  of  cordials  and  home-made 
wines,  and  a  line  of  jars  of  preserves,  and  also  several  books. 

A  Bible  was  on  the  window-sill  and  a  candlestick  beside  it,  and 
on  the  wall  was  a  print  in  colors  of  Hagar  and  Ishmael,  showing  a 
large  hand,  as  of  a  man,  protruding  from  a  door,  with  the  palm 
raised  against  the  mother  and  son,  who  were  thus  shut  out. 

Everything  in  this  room  was  clean  as  it  was  plain,  the  bed-quilt 
sewn  by  hand  from  little  rag  savings,  the  wood  scrubbed  white,  the 
stove  polished,  and  flowers  in  water,  on  a  little  shallow  mantel,  dif- 
fused a  subtle  perfume. 

"Hannah  Ritner  keeps  no  servant,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh. 
"  See  this  beautiful  candle  !  She  makes  it  herself  of  bear's  grease 
and  beeswax,  and  they  say  her  light  never  goes  out  the  longest 
night." 

Lloyd  saw  a  movement  at  the  stable  in  the  rear  of  the  house, 
and  a  tall  woman  came  from  it  and  walked  at  a  dignified  pace  to- 
ward him. 


58 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


She  had  coal-black  hair,  like  the  crow's  wing,  falling  in  combed 
tresses  below  her  waist,  so  that  her  shoulders  and  fine,  straight, 
matronly  form  were  half  covered  with  these  splendid  waves  of  hair, 
in  which  some  silver  threads  made  barely  an  impression. 

She  was  one  of  the  finest  women  Lloyd  had  ever  seen,  with 
something  almost  grand  in  her  stature  and  bearing,  unbent,  and  her 
skin  of  a  clear,  pure  tint,  as  if  its  roses  could  be  called  back  if  she 
would  only  exercise  the  will. 

Her  face  was  rather  large  than  long,  the  jaws  being  of  fine, 
ample  mold,  and  her  hair  was  cut  off  between  the  tresses  in  front, 
and  the  short  tassel  of  jet-black  frontlet  there  half  covered  her 
forehead,  or  nearly  meeting  the  rich  black  eyebrows,  and  under 
these  were  dark  eyes,  large,  melting,  sad,  compassionate,  and  full 
of  thought,  with  black  lashes  sweeping  her  cheeks,  and  a  nose 
long  and  fine,  but  neither  straight  nor  aquiline,  and  like  an  inverted 
bow. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  dark  gown,  with  a  dark  apron  tied  round 
her  waist.     No  ornament  was  in  her  ears  or  on  her  neck  or  hands. 

As  she  approached,  this  woman,  seeing  Lloyd,  opened  her  large 
eyes  wider,  but  did  not  stop  nor  hesitate,  yet  continued  to  look 
straight  at  him  till  his  own  eyes  sank  down  under  the  soul-searching 
gaze  of  this  noble-seeming  and  mysterious  being. 

Still  advancing  upon  him — for  he  stood  in  the  door  between  the 
house  and  kitchen,  looking  outward  through  another  door — the 
woman  made  a  grave,  sweet  inclination  of  her  head  and  counte- 
nance, and  said,  nearly  like  a  question,  yet  with  recognition : 

"  Quantrell ! " 

He  started  with  astonishment. 

"  Lloyd,  is  it  not }  "  she  continued,  with  a  slightly  German  ac- 
cent, but  in  a  voice  of  deep  music,  worthy  of  a  prophetess. 

"  Lloyd  Quantrell  is  what  they  named  me,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Is  your  mother  dead  }  " 

"Yes,  madam." 

"  I  read  so.  Have  you  come  to  see  the  fortune-teller  ?  That  is 
a  sweet  child  I  see  behind  you.     Do  you  pretend  to  love  her  ?  " 

"  Pretend,  madam  ?  "  Lloyd  answered  with  indignation,  yet  also 
with  accusation  and  fear.    "  I  hope  you  are  not  tempting  me." 

"  God  forbid  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  stately  reproof ,  "yet  ye  have 
golden  tongues.  What  do  you  find  to  kill  in  these  mountains  like 
these  simple  birds  of  sex  }  " 


WITCH  OF  SMOKE  TOWN. 


59 


She  waved  her  hand  toward  the  women. 

At  that  moment  Luther  Bosler  perceived  the  dog  Albion  come 
out  of  the  woods  and  begin  to  scratch  and  whine  around  the  little 
stable. 

"  Is  that  your  dog.?  "  the  woman  spoke,  also  looking  toward  the 
stable  as  if  with  some  new  interest.  "  Go  bring  him  away,  in- 
stantly ! " 

Luther,  not  Lloyd,  started  to  do  so.  He  found  his  own  dog, 
Fritz,  returned,  and  Fritz  followed  him  obediently ;  but  the  English 
pointer  was  not  tractable,  and  ran  back  into  the  chestnut  and  chin- 
quapin brush,  whither  Luther  followed,  calling  his  name. 

"  Hannah,"  spoke  Nelly  Harbaugh  to  the  woman,  "  the  harness 
is  a  bit  broke,  and  we  stopped  to  mend  it.  Won't  you  tell  our  fort- 
unes ?  " 

"  Idle  request  upon  the  Sabbath-day  !  "  Hannah  Ritner  replied. 
"  I  have  told  one  fortune  for  you  to-day  already.  Is  not  your  lover 
yonder?" 

She  pointed  to  where  Atzerodt's  horse  was  tied  in  the  secluded 
path. 

Lloyd  Ouantrell,  looking  there,  saw  Atzerodt  standing  up  and 
looking  intently  toward  the  stable. 

"  Give  me  your  hand  !  "  the  seer  commanded,  taking  Nelly's  in 
her  own  palm,  and  gazing  with  great  candor  and  beauty  of  expres- 
sion into  her  eyes. 

Lloyd  thought  he  had  never  seen  together  three  more  beautiful 
women  than  these. 

Hannah  Ritner  then  slowly  spoke  these  lines,  with  such  deep, 
distinct,  and  eloquent  diction  that  Lloyd  hoped  she  would  speak 
more: 

"  Ebbes  dunkel  nnd  weiss  marrick  ich, 
Mit  dunkla  salPs  b'marricka  dich  ! 
Gaed  der  rotk-fogel  tcf  'n  rets', 
Dann  waersht  net  dunkel  or  net  weiss  !  " 

Nelly  Harbaugh  muttered  something  Lloyd  believed  to  be  the 
protecting  "  Words,"  and  dropped  her  fine  blue  eyes. 

The  fortune-teller,  turning  her  own  eyes  to  Lloyd,  exclaimed  : 

"  It  is  not  my  wont  to  tell  on  poor  girls  secrets  that  may  smirch 
them  in  a  man's  eyes.  Here  is  her  fortune  as  I  gave  it,  put  in  Eng- 
lish words." 

Still  holding  Nelly  Harbaugh's  hand,  Hannah  Ritner  recited  to 


6o  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Lloyd  and  little  Katy  as  follows,  studying  Katy  meanwhile,  and  only 
once  looking  at  the  hand  : 

"  Something  dark  and  white  I  mark, 
It  shall  mark  thee  with  the  dark  ! 
When  the  red-bird  takes  his  flight, 
Thou  shalt  not  be  dark  or  white  !  " 

"  Look  out  for  the  red-bird,  Nelly,"  Lloyd  exclaimed  ;  "  the  dove 
is  my  warning." 

Hannah  Ritner  caught  the  word  and  repeated  it : 

"  Die  Dowb  :  that  was  the  bird  of  the  Holy  Spirit  which  de- 
scended on  the  baptizers,  cooing  as  it  flew  from  heaven,  '  This  is 
my  beloved  Son  ! '  My  well-beloved  son  ! "  she  turned  to  Lloyd, 
with  something  very  tender,  yet  sorrowful,  in  her  great  eyes,  "  you 
may  be  baptized  with  fire.  Seek  even  in  the  fire  for  that  immortal 
dove  which  bravely  swept  the  Deluge  with  his  tired  pinions,  and  re- 
turned to  the  little  ark  of  love  at  last.  Why  do  you  seek  this  simple 
maiden's  eyes  as  if  their  luster  was  the  window  of  that  ark  to  you  ? 
— She  trembles  while  I  ask. — Fear  not,  my  Httle  peasant-maid  !  I'll 
tell  your  lover's  fortune,  and,  if  I  tell  it  true,  never  need  you  fear  to 
come  to  Hannah  Ritner  and  ask  her  counsel. — Lloyd,  give  me  your 
hand ! " 

She  took  Lloyd's  hand,  and  little  Katy,  full  of  faith  and  yearning, 
took  his  other  hand  almost  in  stealth,  and  looked  in  Hannah  Rit- 
ner's  eyes  with  simple  pleading. 

At  that  moment,  Lloyd  Quantrell,  cool  and  undisturbed,  saw  the 
stable-door  unclose,  and  a  negro  emerge,  carrying  an  old  man  on 
his  back,  and,  looking  backward  agonizingly,  the  negro  stole  down 
the  embowered  lane. 

Lloyd  looked  again  in  Hannah  Ritner's  eyes.  He  could  not  see 
them,  for  they  were  bent  upon  his  hand,  and,  to  his  astonishment, 
some  tears  fell  from  somewhere  on  his  palm. 

"  Why  do  you  weep  }  "  he  asked  ;  "  I  am  nothing  to  you." 

"  This  is  a  large,  strong  hand,"  answered  Hannah  Ritner,  with 
deep  feeling.  "  I  see  the  marks  of  conflicts  upon  it,  but  not  of  toil. 
Oh,  find  some  task  to  do,  my  son,  and  bless  your  Maker  for  sweet, 
constant  occupation  ! " 

"  Tell  my  fortune  ! "  spoke  Lloyd.  "  I  am  not  afraid  to  hear  it. 
You  will  not  hurt  this  little  girl's  feelings,  I  know ;  for  she  t's  dear 
to  me.  Mother  Hannah  ! " 


WITCH  OF  SMOKETOWN,  6 1 

At  this  familiar  salutation,  tears  fell  from  Hannah  Ritner's  eyes 
again,  and  she  was  unable  to  proceed  for  some  time. 

Throwing  an  arm  around  each,  she  drew  both  Lloyd  and  Katy 
to  her  breast,  and,  looking  down  on  them,  the  silent  tears  fell  from 
her  splendid  eyes  all  the  more,  and  not  like  the  tears  of  anguish,  but 
of  great  commiseration. 

Lloyd  thought  she  was  like  the  Virgin  he  had  seen  a  picture  of  at 
the  Catholic  school,  whose  everlasting  cause  of  love  and  woe  was  the 
successive  ages  of  mankind,  and  their  many  sorrows,  ever  to  recur. 

Little  Katy,  also  tearful  and  tender,  reached  up  her  lips  and 
kissed  the  prophetess's  mouth,  saying : 

"  Fergeb  uns  unser  shoolda  !    You  must  be  good,  I  know," 

"  God  bless  you,  my  child,  for  those  sweet  words  !  "  said  Hannah 
Ritner,  quieted  and  strong  again. 

Looking  now  at  Lloyd  with  deep  interest,  she  repeated  what  he 
could  not  understand,  in  her  beautiful  intonation,  thus  : 

"  All's  gamer's  unna  die  Sunn  Ich  sae, 
Fer  deina  Flindt  fleegt  in  die  Hoh  ; 
Und  Avann  aw  dodt  sheest  allum  ort, 
Dann  singst  die  Darddle-Daub  doch  fort ! " 

"Come,  Mother  Ritner  ! "  Lloyd  pleasantly  entreated,  yet  feeling 
something  remarkable  to  be  in  this  person,  and  a  slight  sense  of 
superstition  in  himself,  "  you  will  not  leave  my  fate  such  a  Dutch 
riddle  as  that }     Tell  my  coming  luck  in  English,  too  !  " 

The  strange,  stately  woman  tapped  her  forehead  as  if  seeking  to 
recollect  or  to  compose,  or,  at  least,  to  translate  something. 

"  I  have  spent  so  much  of  my  time,  my  children,  among  these 
mountain  poor,  teaching  them  in  Dutch,  that  my  English  verse 
comes  slowly  back  to  me,  and  I  am  growing  old,  too,  and  memory 
and  wit  are  weaker." 

With  the  same  slight  German  accent  she  then  made  the  transla- 
tion of  Lloyd's  fortune,  not  readily,  yet  with  eloquence,  like  profound 
conviction  : 

"  All  the  game  beneath  the  sun 
Shall  rise  up  before  thy  gun  ; 
When  thou  killest  everything, 
Still  the  turtle-dove  will  sing  ! " 

"  Thank  God  for  that,  Katy ! "  Lloyd  exclaimed.  "  Let  the  tur- 
tle dove  be  heard,  whatever  happens  to  us.— And  now,  Mother  Rit- 


62  KATY  OF  CATOCTm. 

ner,  dear  little  Katy  is  waiting  to  have  her  fate  told  before  she  goes 
to  church  ;  for  Luther.  I  reckon,  has  mended  the  harness  by  this 
time." 

"  I  must  be  quick,"  Hannah  Ritner  said ;  "  for  I  am  strangely 
nervous  this  morning.  It  seems  to  me  I  hear  the  baying  of  dogs. 
Katy,  let  me  see  your  hand  !  Why,  my  darhng,  the  lines  in  it  are 
almost  like  my  own.     I  can  tell  your  fortune  easily." 

As  she  repeated  the  following  lines,  Katy  listened  with  deepen- 
ing awe  and  final  trembling,  so  that  Lloyd  kissed  her  to  his  heart, 
at  the  end : 

"  In  dara  bond  sae  Ich  en  Ring 
Ferleera,  soUsht  du's,  schoenes  ding  !  " 

Katy  heard  with  prayerful  wonder  and  fear.  The  seer  spoke  to 
her  with  deep  and  solemn  tones  the  next  couplet,  as  follows : 

"Doch  bawdst  du  fer's  im  krickly  noof, 
Dan  sollsht  du's  finna  bei  'ma  Buch  !  "  * 

As  she  spoke,  Hannah  Ritner  accidentally  laid  her  hand  upon 
the  Bible. 

"  Now  for  the  English,  Mother  Hannah  !  "  Lloyd  exclaimed 
seeing  that  Katy  Bosler  looked  pale  and  frightened. 

"  What  noises  are  those  ?  "  Hannah  Ritner  whispered.  "  Surely 
it  is  the  blood-hound's  bark  I  hear  !     Who  is  at  my  stable  ?  " 

She  strode  through  the  kitchen  and  shouted  : 

"  What  do  you  there  }  Stealers  are  ye  of  the  souls  and  bodies 
of  your  fellow-men  !  " 

Lloyd,  Katy,  and  Nelly  following,  they  beheld  come  out  of  the 
small  chestnuts  behind  the  stable,  first  the  dog  Albion,  very  ani- 
mated and  frolicsome,  and  he  threw  himself  into  the  attitude  of  point- 
ing game  a  fev*^  steps  from  the  stable-door. 

Next  there  bounded  from  the  same  thicket  three  dogs  apparently 
fighting,  and  one  of  these  was  engaged  in  a  clinched  struggle  with 
another,  which  bayed  deep  and  loud  ;  and  the  third  dog,  a  great 
blood-hound,  rushed  upon  the  stouter  of  these  dogs  and  bit  him 
terribly,  while  Albion  also  barked  as  he  "  pointed,"  and  so  the  air  was 
full  of  fierce,  savage  noises. 

Luther  Bosler,  going  to  the  relief  of  the  injured  dog,  which  was 

*  These  predictions  are  all  translated  into  Pennsylvania  Dutch  by  Thomas 
C.  Zimmerman,  of  Reading,  Pa. 


WITCH  OF  SMOKETOWN. 


63 


now  seen  to  be  his  own  Fritz,  was  himself  set  upon  by  the  two 
hounds,  and  they  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  tearing  him  to  pieces, 
when  out  of  the  thicket  rushed  the  two  men  already  related  to  have 
crossed  the  mountain  during  the  thunderstorm,  and  both  of  these 
shouted  loudly  to  the  blood-hounds  and  pulled  them  separate  ways. 

"  It's  the  Logan  boys,"  exclaimed  Nelly  Harbaugh  ;  "  husht  se 
g'sana  ?  There  must  be  runaway  slaves  hiding  about  Hannah  Rit- 
ner's  house." 

"  Go  in  there  at  your  peril,  hyenas  ! "  shouted  Hannah  Ritner, 
throwing  herself  between  the  stable  and  the  pursuers.  "  This  land 
is  mine,  and  I  will  defend  it  with  my  life  ! " 

She  had  drawn  upon  her  head  a  large  leghorn  hat,  and  as  she 
spread  her  arms  across  the  stable-door  and  put  her  back  against  it 
and  threw  her  fine  white  throat  and  strongly  pointed  chin  up,  the 
long  elf-hair  fell  so  wildly  and  so  dead  black  down  from  her  pallid 
face  that  both  the  men  halted  a  moment  irresolutely. 

Lloyd  Quantrell's  ill-starred  dog,  however,  dashed  at  Hannah 
and  barked  his  ill-tempered  and  short,  snappish  dislike.  Lloyd  him- 
self knocked  the  dog  over  with  a  stone,  and  it  retired  yelping  a  little 
distance,  and  again,  with  one  fore-leg  extended  and  the  other  lifted 
crookedly  as  if  lame,  raised  its  muzzle  toward  the  stable,  put  its 
tail  out  straight,  and  cast  its  eyes  trancefuUy  sidewise  like  a  somnam- 
bulist. 

The  long  hounds  bounded  against  the  stable  as  if  resolved  to 
throw  it  down. 

"  Infernal  dog !  "  thought  Lloyd  ;  "  but  a  pointer's  a  hound,  too, 
bred  on  a  spaniel. — Open  that  door,  Hannah ! "  Lloyd  raised  his 
voice.  "  If  their  niggers  are  not  there,  I'll  fill  both  these  loafers' 
hounds  with  shot." 

"  They  shall  not  go  in  !  "  Hannah  Ritner  cried. 

"  Interfere  with  us  at  your  peril,  young  man  !  "  the  taller  of  the 
ruffians  said,  but  without  any  temper.  "  We've  suspected  this  place 
a  good  while,  and  now  we've  got  a  warrant  to  search  it.  The  dogs 
trailed  right  yer." 

He  produced  his  warrant,  and,  as  he  walked  to  Hannah  Ritner 
and  presented  it,  his  companion  slipped  in  at  the  rotten  stable-side. 

Hannah  moved  a  little  way  to  examine  the  warrant,  and  the 
stable-door,  pushed  open  from  within,  showed  nothing  there  but  a 
lady's  horse,  all  saddled,  and  nibbling  at  his  fodder. 

The  two  slave-catchers  hastily  examined  the  inside  of  the  stable ; 


64 


JirATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 


their  dogs,  assisted  by  Albion,  smelling  and  seeking  everywhere,  but 
in  vain. 

"  We  may  be  mistaken,"  said  one  of  the  men,  a  little  pale,  and 
hitching  up  his  wet  water-proof  boots,  "  but  we  shall  now  search  the 
house." 

"There's  nothing  there,"  Lloyd  Ouantrell  sternly  interposed, 
"and  now  I'll  pepper  both  your  dogs  with  my  gun,  as  I  have  prom- 
ised," 

Lloyd  started  at  a  quick  stride  toward  the  wagon  at  the  end  of 
the  lane.  He  had  walked  but  a  step,  however,  when  a  voice  was 
heard  to  cry : 

"  Coom  on  !  Te  niggers  is  here,  poys,  and  te  reward  is  mine,  py 
Jing ! " 

At  the  end  of  the  little  lane,  the  black  boy  before  observed,  with 
the  old  negro  man  upon  his  back,  was  receding  and  trembling  before 
Lloyd  Quantrell's  gun  cocked  at  Andrew  Atzerodt's  shoulder, 

"  I  shoost  found  tis  gun  in  te  wagon,"  Atzerodt  exclaimed,  "and 
took  it  and  headed  off  tese  niggers  after  tey  had  walked  ofer  me  in 
tis  lane." 

The  hunters  and  their  dogs  dashed  forward  ;  the  young  man 
was  overthrown  and  the  old  man  fell  heavily  to  the  ground,  and  the 
wild  dogs  set  upon  them  till  dragged  away. 

When  silence  was  restored  after  the  baying  thunder,  the  old 
black  man  still  lay  where  he  had  fallen,  and  the  younger  man, 
bloody  and  nearly  naked  after  struggling  with  the  dogs,  looked 
down  upon  him  in  despair, 

"  Father !  "  he  cried,  "  is  you  hurt }     Oh,  speak  to  me,  father ! " 

With  a  painful  effort  the  old  man  turned  from  his  side  to  his 
back,  looked  up  into  his  son's  face  with  a  convulsive  shudder  of  his 
lineaments,  and  saying,  "Honey,  I's  mos'  gone,"  straightened  out, 
stone  dead. 

The  young  man  knelt,  clammy  with  the  sweat  for  life  and  free- 
dom, and  raising  his  hands,  clasped  together,  above  his  head,  sobbed 
out  the  words : 

"Father!  Daddy!  Don't  die  now,  when  I'se  carried  ye  so 
fur,     I'll  go  back  to  ole  missis  and  take  it  all  on  me !  " 

The  old  man's  jaw  had  fallen ;  his  gray  hairs  only  moved  in  the 
mountain  zephyrs ;  he  seemed  worn  out  with  age  and  terror,  and 
very  quiet  in  the  light  of  God. 

"  Oh  !  "  shouted  the  young  man,  turning  toward  the  spectators  of 


WITCH  OF  SMOKE  town: 


65 


the  scene,  his  hands  still  lifted  prayerfully  together,  "  kill  me,  won't 
you,  and  let  me  reign  with  daddy  ? — Reign,  Lord  !  "  he  screamed 
with  sudden,  awful  ecstasy,  "  and  let  me  die  and  reign  with  father, 
too.     I  kin  die  under  de  whip  if  I  kin  reign  ! " 

His  streaming  eyes  were  strained  with  this  religious  despair,  till 
their  gleaming  pupils  grew  small  upon  the  great  white  disks  of  his 
eyeballs.  He  was  a  sinewy,  high-purposed  young  man,  and  the 
dogs  came  forward  and  glared  at  him  as  if  he  might  be  dangerous 
yet. 

But  as  he  prayed  for  human  hands  to  give  him  death,  his  own 
long  toil  in  night  and  storm,  bramble  and  mountain,  carrying  that 
old  man,  and  the  excitement  of  his  sorrow,  threw  him  in  a  fit  upon 
the  earth — blind,  silent,  desolate. 

The  handcuffs  of  the  Logans  were  fastened  on  his  wrists,  even 
before  he  fell,  and  while  he  appealed  to  human  nature  and  to  God. 

"  Off  with  him,  while  he's  quiet !  "  spoke  the  elder  Logan  to  his 
brother.  "  There's  no  reward  for  the  older  chap,  and  so  we'll  leave 
his  body  here  for  the  neighbors,  or  the  birds." 

The  two  short,  thick-set  men,  tying  the  unconscious  negro's 
limbs,  lifted  him  on  their  shoulders  and  started  to  go. 

"  Stop  !  "  interposed  Andrew  Atzerodt ;  "  I  caught  dat  nigger, 
and  want  my  money  for  him." 

"  The  reward  is  three  hundred  dollars,"  replied  the  slave-dealer ; 
"  here  is  a  hundred  for  your  share,  if  you  put  in  no  further  claim." 

He  passed  a  bank-note  to  the  haggard  man,  who  looked  at  it 
with  fervor  and  accepted  it,  and  then,  turning  to  Nelly  Harbaugh  in 
a  moment  of  revulsion  and  triumph,  he  cried : 

"  I  earn  nothing  ?  Heigh  }  I  can't  support  a  wife  ?  Heigh  } 
Take  it,  Nelly,  and  I'll  pecome  a  nigger-ketcher  and  make  you  rich, 

Py  Jing ! " 

The  girl  seemed  attracted  by  so  much  money.     She  hesitated. 

"  Off  with  you  ! "  hoarsely  spoke  Luther  Bosler.  "  It  is  te  Sab- 
bath, and  I  would  not  fight.  But  this  insult  to  a  lady  excites  me. 
Plood-money  to  a  woman  engaged  to  be  married  to  an  honest 
man  }  " 

His  slow,  intense  exasperation  was  like  some  giant's  aroused 
power — infectious,  because  so  deep  and  real.  Lloyd  Quantrell  felt 
it,  and  wresting  his  gun  from  Atzerodt 's  hand,  he  cried  : 

"  Luther,  I'm  with  you.  We  two  can  clean  all  three  of  these 
ruffians  out." 


66  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

He  looked  at  his  caps  and  raised  the  bright  twisted  barrel.  The 
dogs  perceived  disorder  near  and  growled  ominously. 

"  You  are  too  good  a  citizen,  Bosler,  to  break  the  law,"  ex- 
claimed the  slave-taker.  "  Let  us  go  in  peace.  We  only  do  our 
duty  under  the  compromise  laws  of  the  United  States  and  the 
warrant  of  the  State  of  Virginia." 

"  Put  down  that  man ! "  Lloyd  Ouantrell  said  to  the  speaker, 
with  the  cool  zest  of  collision  in  him. 

"I'll  put  him  down,"  the  mountain  ranger  answered,  "at  the 
town  of  Harper's  Ferr}%  and  not  before  !  " 

The  two  girls  became  alarmed  at  the  scene  before  them,  and 
Atzerodt  moved  toward  his  horse. 

"  Go  !  "  spoke  Luther  Bosler,  with  deadly  calm.  "  God's  ven- 
geance hovers  ofer  tis  guilty  land  !  " 

"  It  will  come  to-night !  "  pealed  the  deep  tones  of  Hannah  Rit- 
ner,  as  she  walked  forward.  "  Let  me  prophesy  with  head  uncovered, 
as  the  Scripture  commands  woman  to  do !  " 

She  threw  her  hat  upon  the  ground  and  turned  her  face  to  the 
south.  Her  long,  wild  hair  she  threw  behind  her  shoulders  with 
sudden  nervous  energy,  and  her  large  dark  eyes  seemed  inverted 
and  gazing  inward,  and  her  tones  were  like  a  woman's  who  had  never 
spoken  with  human  people,  but  had  wandered  alone,  talking  loudly 
with  herself. 

"  These  are  the  two  angels  sent  to  Sodom  " — she  indicated  the 
slave-catchers.  "  Turn  in,  my  lords,  and  tarry  in  my  house  and 
wash  your  feet !  For  ye  are  compassed  round.  The  mountain 
fires  shall  drown  ye  and  yon  city  to  which  ye  go.  The  cry  of  the 
poor,  waxed  great  before  God's  face,  calls  for  destruction,  and  it 
will  not  be  put  off.  I  see  the  chimneys  reel,  the  hearth-stone  shat- 
tered, the  churches  hollow,  and  the  rivers  flowing  red.  Escape  ? 
Ye  can  not !  Brimstone  and  fire  shall  mingle  this  night,  and  the 
smoke  of  the  country  go  up  as  the  smoke  of  a  furnace  !  " 

She  ceased,  as  if  still  talking  to  herself.  The  dogs  whined,  and 
the  men  looked  at  each  other. 

"  She's  crazy,"  said  Lew  Logan. 

"  Come,  leave  her,"  spoke  his  brother  Ben  ;  "  we  are  twenty 
miles  from  Harper's  Ferry." 

They  went  at  a  rapid  walk  up  the  gorge,  followed  by  Atze- 
rodt. 

A  moment  after  they  had  disappeared  from  view,  Hannah  Rit- 


BEAVER   CREEK  DUNKERS.  ^y 

ner,  resuming  her  natural  tones,  turned  to  the  remaining  persons 
and  said : 

"  You  will  be  late  at  love-feast.  I  thought  to  go  there  with  you. 
But  I  must  take  a  long  ride." 

As  they  were  getting  into  the  wagon,  she  went  past  on  a  nim- 
ble-footed saddle-horse,  dropping  them  a  courteous  farewell. 

"  It  seems  to  me  I  have  seen  a  horse  like  that  before,"  Lloyd 
Quantrell  thought;  "she's  mounted  like  a  huntress." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

BEAVER   CREEK   DUNKERS. 

All  made  spasmodic  remarks,  with  no  great  intelligibility  of  plan 
or  reflection,  on  the  foregoing  scene — the  law  to  capture  and  return 
fugitive  slaves  having  been  in  recent  years  established  by  Congress 
with  the  aid  of  all  the  great  statesmen  and  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  for  the  purpose  of  composing  the  country,  which  seemed, 
indeed,  perfectly  tranquil  now,  excepting  many  such  agonizing  epi- 
sodes as  that  just  given,  but  which  it  was  thought  unpatriotic  and 
disturbing  to  describe  or  discuss. 

"  What  was  your  fortune,  Katy  ?  "  Lloyd  asked  as  they  came  to 
the  top  of  a  hill  and  saw  before  them  a  bounding  prospect  of  fields 
uptilted,  and  woods  in  plumes  and  crowns,  giving  every  well-plowed 
farm  a  human  look  like  hair  worn  strong,  yet  comely. 

"  Hush,  Lloyd  !  "  Katy  said,  "  it  was  not  good  ;  so  let  me  be  still 
and  think  of  the  Lord's  supper  till  we  come  to  church." 

"  Yonder  is  Beaver  Creek  Dunker  meeting-house,"  Nelly  Har- 
baugh  spoke  to  Lloyd,  indicating  nearly  two  miles  away  a  low 
white  building  like  a  long  school-house  half  sunken  behind  a  moundy 
brown  hill,  and  defined  against  a  higher  crest  of  green.  At  the 
foot  of  the  hills  they  descended,  woods  and  notches  in  the  bottoms 
were  signs  of  a  stream  there,  and  the  far  eastern  horizon  rose  up 
like  a  mighty  rampart  as  if  it  were  an  ocean's  confines. 

"That  is  the  Antietam  country,"  Luther  exclaimed,  "and 
Peaver  Creek  is  a  part  of  it.  Our  mother.  Nelly,  was  from  Antie- 
tam, put  she  loved  Peaver  Creek  pecause  she  met  father  there  one 
love-feast  week.     Tey  slept  in  te  garret  of  te  church,  as  us  Tun- 


58  JiTATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 

kers  do,  and  many  a  marriage,  Nelly,  comes  out  of  tese  homely  ways 
we  haf  of  living  like  te  tisciples,  watching  with  our  Master,  and 
eating  of  te  Passover  lamb." 

"  Passover  !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd  ;  "  that's  a  Jew  jubilee  of  some 
kind,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  all  te  early  Christians  were  Jews.  When  te  Lord 
slew  te  first-born  of  all  te  Egyptians,  te  Jews  in  Egypt  killed  a 
lamb  and  marked  teir  doors,  so  te  angel  of  death  would  see  te 
lamb's  plood-mark  and  go  past.  Tey  always  eat  te  Passover  after- 
ward, and  so  did  te  Christian  Jews,  and  so  do  we.  Tunkers  and 
Moravians,  I  pelieve,  is  all  that  does  it  now.  Te  sacrament  is  not 
te  love-feast,  put  te  Lord's  supper.  We  keep  te  feast ;  we  kill  a 
lamb,  and  Jew  and  Cathohc  is  welcome.  We  don't  drive  te  hun- 
gry away  like  Saint  Paul ;  for  it  can't  pe  any  harm  in  peing  hun- 
gry-" 

"  Ah  !  Luther,"  Lloyd  exclaimed,  "  Judas  was  at  the  last  supper, 

and  got  the  sop  above  all  the  others.  Money  was  what  ailed  him. 
Are  not  you  good  Dutch  fond  of  money  }  " 

"  Luther  worships  it,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  exclaimed,  patting  her 
lover  on  the  back.  "  He  and  his  father  want  to  be  rich  and  noth- 
ing else.  If  I  was  rich  I  would  want  more  than  that :  education, 
admiration,  and  splendor.  But  I  can  make  Luther  love  them,  too, 
and  bring  them  to  me." 

"  Money,"  Luther  reflected  aloud,  "  is  te  convenient  result  of  in- 
dustry' and  care.  Whatever  else  we  want,  money  fetches  it.  We 
Dutch  puys  land  with  it  for  our  children." 

Nelly  blushed  as  he  looked  at  her. 

"Her  first  blush,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  thought,  "since  I  have  seen 
her.     Then  she  loves  that  man !     She  will  not  blush  for  me." 

"  We  can  not  spend  our  money,  Lloyd,"  Luther  continued,  "  if 
we  keep  diligent,  pecause  we  have  no  fashions.  Our  clothes  is  te 
same  from  year  to  year.  We  do  not  take  usury,  so  we  do  not  take 
risks,  and  we  do  not  go  to  law  to  maintain  corrupting  lawyers  who 
create  quarrels ;  Tunkers  never  sue  one  another.  Te  man  who 
cheats,  cheats  only  himself.  We  never  fight,  nor  swear,  nor  shave 
our  peards ;  so  we  require  no  barbers.  Our  women  work  and  do 
not  strain  the  men  for  their  luxury.  Children  are  plenty  here,  and 
we  puy  more  land  for  tem.  Education  is  good  if  it  does  not  make 
people  saucy  and  tisputatious  and  lazy  ;  occupation  is  te  only  thing 
that  peats  education.     Te  worid  has  plenty  if  people  live  simple 


BEAVER   CREEK  BUNKERS. 


69 


and  love  their  neighbor,  who  is  their  fellow-man.  That  was  a  fel- 
low-man tey  carried  back  to  slavery.     No  good  can  come  of  it." 

Lloyd  Quantrell  had  prejudices  the  stronger  for  his  superficial 
good-humor,  and  he  flushed  as  quickly  as  he  spoke : 

"  You  Dutch  and  Yankees — for  I  reckon  you're  the  same  breed 
— declare  war  on  interest  and  property  till  you  get  some  of  it.  I 
can  say  that  from  some  experience,"  Lloyd  remarked  apologetically, 
for  Katy  had  raised  her  large  eyes  at  his  suppressed  tones,  "  because 
my  father  was  a  Yankee,  and  once  had  your  ideas,  but  shaving 
notes  and  leasing  7ny  niggers  are  now  his  chief  interests." 

"  You  must  be  rich,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  exclaimed.  "  Have  you 
got  slaves,  too  .''  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lloyd,  "  fifty  slaves,  worth  to-day  thirty-five  thousand 
dollars.  That  is,  my  father  is  my  trustee  for  them.  My  mother 
left  me  her  slaves.     My  father  leases  them  in  Charles  County." 

"  Has  your  father  slaves  also  }  "  Luther  Bosler  asked. 

'•  No.  He  took  my  mother's  land  and  personal  property.  The 
slaves  are  more  salable.  I  suspect  he  took  the  less  advantageous 
property  because  he  had  prejudices  like  yours,  Luther." 

Nelly  Harbaugh  stared  at  Lloyd  with  all  her  might,  hearing  he 
was  so  rich. 

"  Katy,"  she  cried,  with  a  breath  from  her  fine  aquiline  nose, 
"your  lover  is  the  richest  man  you  ever  saw.  Now  make  him 
marry  you ! " 

This  time  the  blush  was  Lloyd's.  He  glanced  at  Katy,  whose 
face  was  turned  toward  her  lap,  and  she,  looking  up,  now  showed 
her  eyes  all  wet  with  tears. 

"  DarHng,"  cried  Lloyd.  "  Nelly  has  hurt  your  feelings.  You  do 
not.  love  me  for  my  money." 

"  Oh !  "  Katy  murmured  through  her  sobs,  "  der  auram  man 
hut  koe  haimat." 

"  What  does  she  say  }  "  Lloyd  asked  of  Nelly,  drawing  Katy's 
head  into  his  hands. 

"  She  says,  '  That  poor  man  has  no  home.'  I  guess  she's  think- 
ing of  that  lazy,  runaway  slave." 

"  We  can  go  to  the  feast,"  Katy  sobbed  convulsively,  "  to  the 
Lord's  feast.  He  must  go  back  and  be  whipped.  Ic/i  con  sell  net 
shtande." 

"  If  he  can  stand  it,  you  can,  Kate,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  answered, 
gayly.     "  Lloyd  has  fifty  slaves,  he  says.     Did  you  hear  that  }  " 


70  A'ATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  I  wish,"  said  Katy,  "that  he  was  poor.  It's  selfish,  but  I  do. 
For  now  I  see  that  the  fortune-teller's  verse  is  coming  true," 

"  What  was  it,  my  gentle  dove  ?  "  whispered  Lloyd. 

"  I  nefer  saw  so  many  doves,  I  think,  as  this  morning,"  Luther 
Bosler  remarked,  overhearing  the  word.  "  See  them  flying  down  the 
pike  before  us  !  " 

They  all  looked  out,  and  behold  !  the  doves  were  in  the  stony 
road,  trotting  across  it  or  perching  on  the  worm-fence  rails  at  the 
sides,  or  flying  Hke  little  living  windmills  straight  before,  picking 
sustenance  in  the  grass,  tame  and  trusting,  coy  and  fluttered,  and 
seeming  to  wonder  why  the  dog  Albion  chased  them  so  fiercely, 
while  his  companion,  Fritz,  kept  demurely  at  the  wagon's  tail  as  if 
Fritz  also  had  religious  inclinations  as  he  drew  near  church. 

"  Wild  pigeons  come  by  millions  on  the  high  Alleghany  Mount- 
ains," Lloyd  exclaimed.  "These  ring,  and  ground,  and  turtle 
doves  are  plentiful.  They  can't  sing,  and  yet  that  fortune-teller 
thought  so,  for  she  ignorantly  said  to  me  : 

'  When  thou  killest  everything, 
Still  the  turtle-dove  will  sing.' 

"  Nonsense !  "  concluded  Lloyd  Ouantrell,  still  looking  at  the  flying 
doves  with  queer  feelings  at  his  heart. 

"Here  is  Peaver  Creek  mills,"  Luther  remarked,  "where  te 
Tunkers  paptizes." 

A  large  stone  mill  with  low  door  and  hoisting-gear  in  the  gable 
stood  on  the  right,  and  beyond  it  was  a  mill  pond  falling  across  a 
stone  dam,  and  bordered  by  thick  willows  and  tall  sycamores,  and 
in  the  running  waste  below  the  dam  were  islets,  over  one  of  which 
a  noble  water-oak  spread  its  branches. 

Beyond  the  creek  a  large  stone  house  and  some  barns  clung  be- 
tween the  water  and  the  hill,  and  on  the  left  of  the  road,  by  a  store 
and  post-office,  were  a  few  other  limestone  dwellings  and  bams, 
giving  the  hidden  hamlet  that  picturesqueness  and  mystic  social 
drone  in  which  old  mills  resemble  old  matrons  with  their  spinning- 
wheels  and  family  brood. 

People  were  seen  going  to  other  churches  off  on  the  right  in 
smart  spring  wagons  or  finer  market  carr)-alls. 

Luther  let  down  his  bridle-reins  and  gave  the  lines  to  Nelly,  who 
drove  the  horses  into  the  creek  to  drink  while  he  crossed  by  a  foot- 
log.     As  the  horses  took  their  fill  gratefully,  the  old  mill  seemed  to 


BEAVER   CREEK  DUNKERS. 


71 


sleep  and  snore  ;  two  kingfishers  flashed  over  the  mirror  of  the  dam 
without  a  cry,  and  both  dogs  also  drank,  while  still  the  gray  and 
brown  doves  fed  along  the  road  as  tame  as  chickens. 

"  Going  to  the  Antietam  ?  "  Lloyd  mused  aloud,  looking  at  the 
clear  water.  "  That  is  a  stream  of  which  I  never  heard.  How 
destitute  is  our  country  of  history  !  " 

Luther  climbed  in  as  Nelly  drove  the  horses  through  Beaver 
Creek,  hub  deep,  and  the  Sabbath  doves  again  led  the  way  along 
toward  the  Dunker  church,  while  in  the  fields  were  silent  birds  with 
green  wings  and  scarlet  heads,  peeping  up  to  see,  and  dropping  into 
the  blue  clover  again. 

The  church  soon  rose  out  of  the  ground,  its  limestone  walls  al- 
most as  white  as  marble,  and  the  people  and  carriages  and  riding- 
horses  were  seen  around  it,  and  the  graveyard  appeared  beyond 
with  its  delicate  white  tombstones  in  the  grass. 

Coming  nearer,  a  large,  open,  grassy  space  or  common  bordered 
the  road,  and  here  Luther  turned  in,  the  low  gable  of  the  church 
extending  toward  them  its  end  door  and  semicircular  white  window 
above.  It  stood  a  hundred  rods  back  upon  a  little  plateau,  the 
slopes  of  which  were  covered  with  small  fruit-trees  and  a  garden, 
and  below  the  garden  was  the  graveyard.  A  fence  and  gate 
divided  the  church  from  the  common,  and  near  the  gate  were  hitch- 
ing-racks,  a  shed,  and  water-trough. 

Luther  drove  to  the  rack  and  tied  his  horses.  A  hundred  or  more 
worldly  looking  rustics  saw  the  Dunker  family  descend  and  pass 
through  the  open  gate,  and  gazed  at  Lloyd  Quantrell's  tall,  city-clad 
figure  with  surprise,  hardly  dissembled  by  politeness. 

Nelly  Harbaugh,  gathering  up  her  hoops  and  flounces,  spoke  to 
several  of  these  intruders  as  she  passed  through  them.  Little  Katy, 
with  her  eyes  to  the  ground,  took  her  brother's  arm  and  passed  in. 

The  meeting-house  was  plain  and  long,  and  its  low  ceiling  ad- 
mitted no  galleries.  Wooden  benches  were  stretched  along  its 
width,  and  faced  that  only  side  which  had  no  door,  while  two  aisles 
crossed  each  other  at  the  middle  of  the  church,  entered  by  a  door 
in  each  of  the  other  three  walls. 

The  door  opposite  the  gable  was  open,  and  looking  there  Lloyd 
saw,  to  his  astonishment,  a  great  fireplace  and  an  immense  cook- 
stove  before  it,  and  in  the  fireplace  something  was  roasting  from  a 
crane  and  hooks,  while  the  stove  was  nearly  red-hot,  and  large  pots 
were  steaming  upon  it  and  emitting  the  savor  of  animal  food. 


72 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


The  kitchen  door  closed  in  a  moment,  and  Lloyd  looked  in 
vain  for  the  pulpit,  but  saw  nothing  resembling  it,  not  even  a  plat- 
form. 

A  man  came  down  a  winding  stairway  in  the  corner  of  the 
church,  and  closed  a  cupboard  door  there  behind  him,  and,  pass- 
ing to  some  naked  tables  at  the  blank  side  of  the  church,  opened 
a  little  trap  in  the  wall  and  took  out  a  Bible  and  hymn-book.  This 
man  was  dressed,  like  Jake  Bosler  and  Luther,  in  a  coat  of  dark 
drab  color,  or  rather  pepper-and-salt  mixture,  and  vest  and  trousers 
of  the  same,  the  coat  with  tails  to  its  square,  jacket-like  body,  and 
the  coat-collar  standing  up. 

As  the  man  lined  out  a  hymn  in  English,  Luther  Bosler  took  the 
front  seat  on  one  side  of  the  preacher,  beside  his  father  and  other 
Dunker  men,  and  Katy  took  the  front  seat  on  the  other  side  of  the 
aisle  among  the  women,  and,  slipping  off  her  sun-bonnet,  sat  in  her 
white  night-cap,  as  it  seemed  to  be,  corresponding  to  the  dress  of 
her  companions. 

Lloyd  hesitated  where  to  sit,  till  Nelly  Harbaugh  drew  him  into 
a  long  seat  at  right  angles  to  the  preacher  and  to  Katy  and  to  the 
congregation.  Behind  them  was  the  cupboard  door  opening  upon 
the  garret  stairs. 

"  The  church  will  be  full  of  the  family,"  Nelly  whispered— "  they 
call  the  membership  the  '  family  '—and  there  may  be  no  room  for 
us." 

The  singing  had  already  commenced,  and  Katy's  child's  voice 
and  Luther's  strong  tenor  were  heard  in  the  strain,  and  without 
further  delay  Lloyd  Quantrell,  catching  the  tune,  also  dropped  his 
bass  notes  in,  and  Katy  thrilled  to  hear  the  bold,  manly  music,  going 
to  her  heart. 

The  Dunker  men  and  women  turned  their  faces  toward  the 
church  corner  to  see  the  brown-haired,  broad -headed  young  man 
unaffectedly  singing  there,  and  then  they  looked  at  Katy,  wonder- 
ing. 

Lloyd  Quantrell  was  a  large  man,  several  inches  more  than  six 
feet  high,  with  a  broad  back,  large  hips,  straight  legs,  and  erect  car- 
riage. His  hands  and  feet  were  large  and  strong,  his  neck  was 
powerful ;  his  eyes  were  a  greenish  gray,  very  clear-sighted,  with 
large  dark  centers,  and  he  had  jaws  full  of  strong,  white,  clean 
teeth,  almost  too  large  for  a  gentleman. 

A  boyish  expression  reduced  the  strength  of  his  features,  some 


BEAVER   CREEK  BUNKERS. 


73 


of  which,  as  his  mouth  and  jaws  and  breadth  of  cheek-bones,  were 
indicative  of  high  animal  quahty,  but  his  nose  was  thick  at  the 
bridge  and  more  solid  than  sensitive ;  his  ears  were  too  small  for 
his  face,  and  seemed  to  belong  to  a  woman,  and  his  forehead  was  a 
little  beetling  and  rugged,  as  if  things  built  their  nests  in  it  rather 
than  bathed  in  a  limpid  brain  near  by. 

Flexibility  was  in  that  countenance,  however,  despite  the  might 
of  the  features,  but  it  seemed  to  be  gayety  and  want  of  care  rather 
than  want  of  strength,  and  at  instants  something  like  an  idea,  or  a 
purpose,  halted  a  minute  in  the  eyes,  suffused  with  mischief,  and 
then  passed  on. 

Ready,  joyous,  mildly  imaginative,  voluptuous,  nearly  tender — 
one  feared,  while  Lloyd  smiled,  that  some  day  he  might  think  and 
frown. 

He  was  now  looking  with  a  Marylander's  patriotism  at  a  kind  of 
worship  he  had  never  before  heard  of. 

The  preacher  had  prayed,  and  was  saying  something  in  broken 
English,  and  one  by  one  the  brethren  first,  and  then  the  Dunker 
sisters,  arose  and  passed  by  him  and  whispered,  and  he  made  for 
each  a  mark  in  a  book. 

"  What  is  it  }  "  Lloyd  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"  They're  making  a  preacher,"  whispered  Nelly  Harbaugh. 
"  After  love-feast  they'll  tell  his  name."  * 

The  window  was  open  near  Quantrell,  and  showed  the  Blue 
Ridge  or  South  Mountain  soft  as  a  line  of  deep-green  melons 
with  some  dull  citron  in  their  rind,  lying  along  the  horizon,  but 
so  near  to  the  eye,  it  seemed  as  if  they  ripened  on  the  window- 
sill. 

So  limpid  was  the  air,  so  soft  the  mountain  tints,  Lloyd  thought 
they  were  his  morning  thoughts  reflected  in  the  mirror  of  his  con- 
science, and  softly  impelled  onward  by  his  delighted  heart ;  yet,  as 
he  looked,  shadows  of  clouds  rippled  those  bars  of  mountain,  like 
swans  in  lakes,  and  they  seemed  transparent  and  to  reveal  their 
dreams. 

He  watched  them  as  if  they  were  his  own  body  and  limbs  re- 
flected there  by  the  subtle  medium  of  love,  as  it  diffused  from 
Katy's  eyes. 

Tingling,  warming,  ebbing,  flowing,  he  felt  his  blood  quicken  to 

*  A  Dunker  love-feast  generally  occupies  two  or  more  week-days.  For 
purposes  of  narration  it  is  here  condensed  into  a  Sunday. 


74  KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 

the  love  he  encouraged  yet  forbade,  and  the  mountains  stretching 
across  the  pastoral  upland  flushed,  cooled,  sparkled,  darkened,  and 
thrilled  with  his  own  feelings. 

He  half  closed  his  eyes  and  still  more  wondrous  grew  the  illu- 
sion that,  while  his  heart  was  here  in  the  meeting,  his  form  was 
extended  yonder,  walling  up  the  Catoctin  Valley,  and  in  a  blessed 
trance. 

He  saw  the  mountains  breathe  and  expand,  as  he  drank  in  their 
air ;  when  he  exhaled  his  breath,  they  seemed  to  fall  like  his  own 
chest ;  he  rubbed  his  eyes  and  challenged  them  with  a  look,  and 
then  they  seemed  to  dimple  and  smile  hke  a  child  asleep,  on  whom 
its  mother  looks  and  looks  too  near,  so  that  her  breath  wakes  play- 
fulness in  its  oblivion. 

"  Why  is  everything  so  painfully  distinct,  so  full  of  meaning  and 
presentiment,  so  rapt,  so  haunted  and  so  haunting.^"  Lloyd  asked 
himself.     *'  Is  it  love  }     I  will  not  have  it  so,  but  so  it  is  !  " 

The  crowd  outside  the  church  increased  in  numbers  and  irrev- 
erence. They  were  playing  games  upon  the  slope,  "  Puss  in  the 
Corner  "  and  kissing-games  like  "  Copenhagen,"  and  now  and  then 
loud  laughter,  or  the  scream  of  some  hoyden,  broke  the  quiet  tones 
of  the  preacher  and  the  singing. 

Within  the  church  nearly  ever>'  seat  was  full  of  communicants : 
plain  men  in  long,  straight  hair  falling  back  upon  their  shoulders, 
and  beards  unshaved  and  unshorn  except  the  mustache,  which  none 
wore ;  women  in  well-fitting  black  frocks  with  a  little  cape  sewed 
upon  them,  and  small  white  caps,  almost  transparent,  tied  beneath 
the  chin  and  showing  the  smooth  hair  combed  within. 

Some  of  these  women  were  comely  to  look  upon,  with  skins  of 
temperance  and  eyes  of  zest ;  others  were  fat  and  dull,  and  merely 
amiable;  and  others  yet  were  old  and  wrinkled,  and  submissive, 
like  women  in  whom  beauty  and  life  have  ceased  to  strive,  and  God 
draws  near  as  if  he  were  no  foe,  but  one  as  familiar  in  the  house  as 
once  the  baby  had  been  in  the  cradle. 

Katy  sat  there  conscious,  repentant,  seeking,  listening  to  the 
words  with  submission,  fluttered  by  worldly  passions,  ready  to  cry 
out  with  pain,  tender  with  gratitude. 

Her  beautiful  head  might  have  been  the  ^zg  of  the  divine  con- 
ception, waiting  eternally  to  be  born  into  life  and  goodness. 

Her  thick,  dark  hair  left  of  her  forehead  only  a  narrow  tablet, 
made  w^hiter  by  the   straight  eyebrows  ;  and,  poised  below,  like 


BEAVER   CREEK  BUNKERS. 


75 


moons  upon  the  sea,  her  eyes  gave  night  and  glory  to  every- 
thing. 

All  the  rest  of  her  face  seemed  immature,  but  those  great  eyes  to 
have  been  finished  in  her  childhood,  and,  like  large  posies  upon  a 
slender  stem,  her  delicate  neck  reached  up  to  bear  their  weight.  Her 
form  was  still  a  child's,  barely  budded ;  her  sloping  shoulders  and 
long,  thin  arms,  and  apparent  length  above  the  waist,  showed  one 
still  growing  and  aspiring  to  more  stature.  Her  small  white  cap 
gave  her  the  appearance  of  sitting  up  in  bed.  Lloyd  saw  her  hymn- 
book  in  her  hand,  and  thought  of  her  belief  in  witches,  strong  as  her 
faith  in  God  ;  and  his  brain  framed  the  words : 

"  The  dear  little  Dutch  darling  !  " 

Turning  to  Nelly  Harbaugh,  he  beheld  a  finer  woman  in  every- 
thing but  sensibility,  to  whose  eagle  strength  Katy  continued  the 
similitude  of  the  dove. 

Nelly  had  a  Roman  nose,  giving  masculinity  to  her  face,  a  nose 
which  a  man  might  have  envied,  so  finely  cut  it  was,  and  so  like 
leadership.  Beneath  it  was  an  upper  lip  of  almost  equal  strength, 
and  the  blue  eyes  and  heavy  arched  eyebrows  equally  became  a 
resolute,  ambitious  man's  face.  But  the  lower  lip  and  chin,  how- 
ever heroically  modeled — the  chin  square  —  took  the  softness  of 
maidenhood.     The  eyes  also  looked  longing,  as  for  love. 

Her  form  was  strong,  her  shoulders  could  bear  burdens,  her 
yellow  hair  was  magnificent ;  in  her  rude  flowers  and  bright  print 
dress  some  of  the  style  of  her  fine  natural  carriage  was  conveyed. 
The  hand  in  her  lap  was  large  but  fine,  and  the  arm  beside  it,  which 
Lloyd  drew  into  his  own,  was  modeled  handsomely,  and  hard  like  ivory. 

"  Don't !  "  Nelly  whispered,  "  you  sly,  rich  man.  They're  going 
to  make  the  preacher  now." 

There  was  already  a  commotion  of  some  kind  about  the  front  of 
the  congregation,  and  new  arrivals  pouring  in  forced  the  mere  spec- 
tators from  their  benches,  and,  their  places  being  demanded,  Lloyd 
opened  the  stairway  door,  and  he  and  Nelly  went  up  a  few  steps 
and  could  see  over  the  heads  of  all. 

"  My  Lord  ! "  Nelly  Harbaugh  whispered,  "  Luther  is  the  new 
preacher !  " 

The  elder  minister  or  Bishop  was  standing  by  Luther  Bosler,  and 
little  Katy  was  between  them.  The  minister  shook  Katy's  hand, 
and,  putting  his  arm  around  Luther's  neck,  deliberately  kissed  him 
upon  the  bearded  mouth. 


76 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


Lloyd  Quantrell  pulled  the  door  nearly  fast,  to  hide  his  involun- 
tary laughter. 

"Don't  mock  us!"  Nelly  Harbaugh  said,  with  a  look  of  pain. 
"  I  shall  hav£  to  stand  there  with  him  when  we  are  married,  and 
promise  to  do  his  work  while  he  keeps  the  church  together.  They 
don't  often  make  single  men  preachers.  Katy  takes  my  place  to- 
day." 

Opening  the  door,  Lloyd  saw  a  procession  of  the  members,  one 
by  one  rising  and  going  toward  the  altar-space,  and  there  each  man 
kissed  Luther  Bosler,  each  woman  kissed  Katy  Bosler,  the  women 
shook  Luther's  hand,  the  men  shook  Katy's  hand,  and  so  they  passed 
on,  till  Jake  Hosier's  turn  came,  and  he  fastened  his  wild,  hairy  face 
to  his  son's  mouth  and  rich  dark  beard,  and  coming  away  full  of 
tears  and  emotion,  was  heard  to  articulate : 

"  Luter — Himmel— mootter — Bi'm-by  !  " 

Lloyd  had  to  laugh  again,  and  pulled  the  door  upon  his  delight, 
never  having  seen  in  his  life  one  man  kiss  another. 

"  Excuse  me,  Nelly,"  he  sighed  between  his  spasms  of  laughter, 
"but  this  grizzly-bear  kissing  really  beats  the  Dutch  ! " 

"  You  must  kiss  men,  too,"  Nelly  said,  "  when  you  become  a 
Danker.  Oh,  Katy  will  make  you  one  !  She  never  gives  up  any- 
thing." 

This  increased  Lloyd's  laughter.  When  he  again  widened  the 
aperture,  Luther  Bosler  was  standing  alone,  and  the  brethren  and 
sisters  were  in  prayer.  As  they  rose  and  burst  into  singing,  the 
young  Baltimorean  again  contributed  his  melodious  voice,  and  Katy 
stole  a  glance  to  see  her  lover,  as  far  in  piety  as  music  would  ad- 
vance him,  singing  straight  toward  her  humble  heart. 

"  Oh,"  thought  Katy,  "  if  he  could  only  know  how  religion  makes 
us  love !     He  will  love  the  world  till  God  brings  him  to  me." 

She  heard  her  brother  commence  to  speak,  and  something  al- 
most like  pride  started  in  her  mind,  that  she  had  a  brother  great  and 
wise  enough  to  be  a  minister. 

Lloyd  Quantrell  also  heard,  in  spite  of  the  silly  laughter  and  in- 
terruptions through  the  church-windows,  the  manly  tones  of  Katy's 
brother,  reading  from  the  Bible  the  epistle  old  Saint  Paul  dispatched 
to  them  under  the  golden  cornices  of  Corinth,  in  the  day  when,  like  a 
carrier-bird,  the  Christian  carried  the  straw  from  the  manger  to  build 
a  nest  in  the  acanthus  capitals  of  the  temple  columns  of  the  pagan 
gods. 


BEAVER   CREEK  BUNKERS. 


77 


With  a  slightly  reproving  look  at  the  careless  crowd  without, 
Luther  read : 

"  One  is  hungry  aiid  another  is  drunken.  What  !  have  ye  not 
houses  to  eat  and  to  drink  in  ?     Despise  ye  the  church  of  God? 

"■As  often  as  ye  eat  this  bread  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do  shew 
the  Lord's  death  till  he  come. 

"  Whosoever  shall  eat  and  drink  unworthily  shall  be  guilty  of 
the  body  and  blood  of  the  Lord. 

"  Wherefore,  my  brethren,  when  ye  come  together  to  eat,  tarry 
one  for  another. 

"  /  would  have  ye  know  that  the  head  of  every  man  is  Christ ; 
and  the  head  of  the  woman  is  the  ma?i." 

Luther  turned  from  the  word  and  began  to  speak,  plainly,  slowly, 
modestly. 

He  told  of  the  long  struggle  to  extricate  the  Christian  life  from 
the  pomp  of  ecclesiasticism  and  the  caprices  of  theologians,  and  find 
in  it  the  example  of  the  disciples. 

Princes  and  armies  surrounded  the  Lutherans  and  kept  them 
worldly ;  the  Calvinists  imitated  their  enemies,  and  wanted  rebellion 
and  conquest.  Some  found  comfort  in  an  intellectual  formula  like 
"justification  by  faith."  or  "the  republic  of  the  saints." 

A  few  simple  men  like  Menno  and  Landis,  some  of  them  Catho- 
lic priests,  some  students  by  prayer  of  the  four  Evangelists,  resisted 
all  conformity  and  formality,  clinging  to  the  holy  life  of  the  Son  of 
woman. 

Like  a  little  thread  from  the  land  of  Palestine  trailing  to  the 
Alpine  valleys,  where  the  Waldenses  lived  in  brotherhood,  and 
thence  to  the  springs  of  the  Rhine  and  Danube,  the  tradition  of  the 
simple  truth  preceded  the  worldly  Reformation  which  was  irritated 
by  its  perseverance. 

The  spirit  of  St.  Peter  with  the  sword,  the  spirit  of  St.  Paul  with 
his  dogma,  resented  the  quiet  faith  of  St.  James,  who  was  baptized 
again,  and  mirrored  his  brother  Jesus  in  his  calm  heart. 

Burned  alive,  banished,  forbidden  sepulture,  exposed  in  cages  to 
starve,  torn  between  contending  armies,  the  Baptist  brethren,  Swiss, 
Dutch,  or  German,  bided  their  time  till  William  Penn,  at  the  end  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  heard  of  them,  and  opened  the  New 
World  to  those  faithful  sheep. 

Non-resistants,  submissionists,  with  an  unpaid  clergy,  without 
other  doctrine  than  what  Christ  did,  they  preserved  in  their  West- 


78  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

em  vales  the  brotherhood  of  the  disciples — not  faith,  not  chiefly 
hope,  but  greatest  of  them  all,  love,  which  could  die,  but  could  not 
hate. 

A  tender  intelligence  and  conviction  spread  from  Luther's  tones 
and  eyes,  and  Lloyd  forgot  his  uncouth  dress  and  shaggy  hair. 

Luther  was  animated,  by  his  engagement  to  Nelly,  to  dwell  upon 
the  family  rest,  where,  at  the  table,  every  day,  sat  the  almost  visible 
Christ,  saying,  "  Abide  with  me." 

Quantrell  turned  to  Nelly,  and  her  eyes  were  wet  with  tears. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  SACRAMENT. 


A  SUDDEN  rising  of  the  congregation,  and  clearing  of  certain 
benches,  pressed  the  Dunker  people  back  upon  the  spectators,  and 
again  the  twain  withdrew  into  the  staircase,  and  this  time  they 
passed  into  the  loft.  It  was  lighted  by  the  round  window  in  the 
end,  and,  looking  down  into  the  yard,  they  saw  the  parasites  of  the 
love-feast  eating  bread,  and  meat,  and  pickles,  and  sweet  things,  as 
they  came  in  procession  from  the  kitchen  door. 

The  loft  was  divided  by  pine  planks  across  the  middle,  and  the 
men's  side,  which  they  were  in,  was  strewn  with  clean  straw  and 
some  straw  mattresses,  for  the  lodgers  at  the  love-feast. 

"  It  will  be  full,"  Nelly  said.  "  The  Dunkers  love  to  imagine 
themselves  the  disciples  living  together,  like  the  Christian  family. 
How  can  I  ever  be  good  enough  for  such  a  life  ?  " 

She  seemed  in  real  penitence  and  awe,  and  it  occurred  to  Lloyd 
Quantrell  to  test  the  depth  of  her  feeling.  He  took  her  hand  and 
drew  her  to  him,  and  in  the  low  garret  passed  his  arm  around 
her. 

"  Do  you  love  this  obscure  preacher,"  he  asked,  "  so  much  that, 
if  I  were  to  tell  you  I  admired  you,  you  would  refuse  for  him — Bal- . 
timer e  ?  " 

Her  eyes  shone,  and  next  they  flashed.     She  pushed  him  away. 

"  Do  not  deceive  yourself,  Lloyd,"  she  said,  with  dignity.  "  You 
can  not  deceive  me.  Katy  is  your  passion.  If  she  were  not,  I 
would  prefer  Luther  Bosler  to  you." 


THE    SACRAMENT.  yg 

"  You  are  complimentary,  queen  !  " 

"  You  are  rich,  I  suppose,  but  you  have  no  ambition.  He  has — 
to  be  a  good  man.  That  is  better  than  being  a  play-boy.  Oh,  how 
I  love  that  man  ! "  Nelly  exclaimed,  bursting  into  tears. 

"  Forgive  me  !  "  Lloyd  spoke,  in  an  impulse  of  respect  and  re- 
gret. "  1  had  not  given  you  credit  for  such  feelings.  Why  do  you 
cry  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  so  absolutely  unworthy  of  him,"  answered  the 
girl,  permitting  herself  to  be  caressed.  "  He  is  peaceful  and  just ;  I 
am  full  of  restless  things,  and  know  that  I  am  beautiful.  Am  I  not, 
Lloyd  ? "  she  asked,  almost  with  eagerness,  suddenly  drying  her 
tears.  "  You  live  in  a  great  city  :  do  I  compare  with  the  fine  ladies 
there  ?  " 

"  Few  have  such  splendid  style,"  Lloyd  replied,  slowly  and  with 
judgment.  "  But  it  is  no  place  for  you.  Men  who  would  marry 
you  in  Baltimore  would  not  have  the  respect  for  you — they  do  not 
possess  the  sober  merits — that  Luther  has." 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  "  Nelly  Harbaugh  asked.  "  If  I  could  make 
Luther  an  ambitious  man,  and  turn  his  mind  to  the  world,  we  might 
be  made  for  each  other.  We  are  for  each  other.  I  love  him  with 
fear  and  rest.  But  out  yonder  "—she  pointed  beyond  the  mountains 
— "  is  a  life  that  often  calls  me.  I  think  I  have  talent  as  well  as 
beauty." 

"  Beware,  Nelly,"  Lloyd  spoke  low  and  sagely ;  "  you  heard  what 
Luther  read,  '  The  head  of  the  woman  is  the  man  ' — " 

"  '  And  the  head  of  the  man ' — my  man—'  is  Christ ' ;  that  con- 
demns me  to  be  buried  m  these  mountains— a  Dunker  preacher's 
wife." 

"  But  you  are  poor  and  he  is  prosperous.  He  has  been  indul- 
gent to  you.  He  knows  it  will  be  hard  to  reduce  you  to  his  image, 
but,  in  love,  he  takes  the  chance." 

The  girl's  face  softened  in  all  its  bold  and  spirited  outlines,  and 
she  seemed  profoundly  moved. 

"  Why  can't  I  feel  religious  ?"  she  asked.  "  Why  won't  I  sub- 
mit.? What  makes  me  fear  when  I  ought  to  be  so  happy  .>  Last  night 
I  would  have  married  Andrew  Atzerodt.  To-day.  engaged  to  the 
man  I  respect  above  all  in  the  world,  I  want  to  tear  him  from  his 
content  and  conscience." 

She  threw  herself  upon  one  of  the  freshly  filled  beds,  with  her 
head  in  her  hands. 


3o  KATY  OF  CATOCTJN. 

Her  almost  extravagant  splendor  of  form,  and  straightness  of 
neck,  and  spine,  and  limbs,  and  her  length  of  tresses,  in  color  like 
the  straw,  Lloyd  Quantrell  beheld,  with  rising  dislike  and  dread  of 
this  woman  continuing  to  be  Katy's  friend. 

"  Sis,"  spoke  Lloyd,  with  cool  familiarity,  "  you  must  be  what 
they  call  an  adventuress.  It  means  a  woman  who  would  rather  fool 
many  men  than  not  cheat  herself.  Be  honest  with  this  honest  fel- 
low Luther,  and  quarrel  with  him  to-day  !  " 

Nelly  Harbaugh  started  up,  and  the  spark  of  temper  in  her  brain 
gave  passionate  character  to  her  countenance,  which  Lloyd  admired 
without  losing  his  coolness. 

"  And  you  be  honest  with  Luther's  honest  sister !  "  the  girl  ex- 
claimed. "  Take  your  advice  to  yourself.  God  knows  I  love  Lu- 
ther Rosier,  and  always  shall !  " 

Jake  Bosler's  head  appeared  above  the  stairs  looking  at  them, 
both  in  ill  temper  now,  and  he  said  : 

"Nelly — Lloyd — love-feast — Bi'm-by !  " 

When  they  descended  the  wooden  steps,  the  church  had  been 
darkened  by  closing  all  the  shutters,  and  some  tin  lamps  and  can- 
dlesticks gave,  with  their  fiame,  the  aspect  of  night  to  the  curious 
scene. 

Every  third  bench  had  been  turned  over  and  made  into  a  table 
upon  the  other  two.  The  front  benches  remained  full  of  worship- 
ers, and  the  kitchen  door,  wide  open,  disclosed  some  beams  of  day, 
and  also  a  pantry  of  dishes  and  of  jars,  and  the  stove  and  fireplace 
with  diminished  heat. 

Through  this  door  Dunker  men  were  bringing  white  table-cloths, 
and  piles  of  tin  pans  and  plates,  and  iron  spoons  and  knives  and 
forks.  All  was  clatter  and  decisive  tread,  yet  with  sobriety  and  re- 
spect. 

After  the  tables  were  ready,  large  tubs  were  brought  in,  steaming 
with  broth,  and  meat  and  pickles  and  apple-butter  were  placed  up 
and  down  the  table,  and  bread,  in  slices  and  quarter  loaves. 

Next  two  tubs  were  brought  in  and  set  one  before  the  men  and 
one  before  the  women  on  the  front  line  of  benches. 

"  What's  coming  now  }  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  inquired. 

"  The  feet- washing,"  whispered  Nelly  Harbaugh. 

By  this  time  the  tables,  covering  much  of  the  church  space,  wer.3 
occupied  everywhere  with  waiting  rows  of  Dunker  brethren  and  sis- 
ters sitting  neatly  and  by  sexes.     The  dim  light  shone  on  the  silver 


THE   SACRAMENT.  gl 

hairs  of  many,  and  here  and  there  were  sleeping  babies  at  their 
mothers'  breasts. 

Suddenly  the  Dunker  bishop  began  to  read  the  story  of  the  last 
supper,  from  St.  John  : 

"Jesus  riseth  from  supper  and  laid  aside  his  garments." 

At  this  two  stalwart  Dunkers  arose  and  took  off  their  coats,  and 
two  women  arose  on  the  women's  side. 

"  And  he  took  a  towel  and  girded  himself." 

The  attending  Dunkers  wrapped  towels  around  their  waists,  and 
knelt  by  the  tubs  of  clean  water. 

"After  that  he  poureth  water  into  a  basin,  and  began  to  wash 
the  disciples'  feet  and  to  wipe  them  with  the  towel  wherewith  he 
was  girded.  .  .  .  Jesus  said,  '  If  I  wash  thee  not,  thou  hast  no  part 
with  me.'  " 

The  Dunker  men  and  women  on  the  front  row  were  taking  off 
their  shoes  and  stockings. 

Jake  Hosier's  feet  seemed  to  stray  around  everywhere  as  they 
were  disclosed  under  the  lamp-light. 

Little  Katy's  feet  barely  flashed  a  moment  in  the  Dunker  wom- 
an's hands,  and  the  sound  of  splashing  water  was  heard.  An  in- 
stant more,  Lloyd  saw  the  little  girl's  feet  shme  in  the  woman's 
towel  as  they  were  being  wiped. 

Then  the  Dunker  quadrant  went  on  washing  and  wiping  others, 
till  their  own  turn  came,  when  they  submitted  to  be  also  bathed  and 
wiped. 

The  men  kissed  every  man  whose  feet  they  washed  ;  the  women 
kissed  every  woman  after  wiping  her  feet. 

A  disposition  to  laugh  was  deterred  by  the  solemn  reading  of 
the  gospel — at  times  in  Luther's  deliberate  voice  : 

"  If  I,  then,  your  Lord  and  Master,  have  washed  your  feet,  ye 
also  ought  to  wash  one  another's  feet.  Now  I  have  given  you  an 
example,  that  ye  should  do  as  I  have  done  to  you." 

"  Is  that  in  the  Bible  ?  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  asked  himself.  "  Then 
perhaps  these  people  are  the  only  obedient  disciples." 

The  feet- washing  ended  with  a  hymn,  and  then  the  love- feast 
began. 

"  Lloyd  !  "  a  resonant  voice  called.  It  was  Luther  Bosler,  unable 
to  press  his  way  to  where  they  stood. 

"Come,  sir,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  whispered,  "or  they  will  all  be 
looking  at  us." 


82  KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 

Hardly  aware  why,  Lloyd  followed  the  girl,  for  whom  Katy  had 
kept  a  seat  beside  herself. 

"  You  sit  over  here,  Lloyd ;  Katy  wants  you  to  do  so,"  Luther 
Bosler  spoke,  showing  Quantrell  a  place  among  the  Dunker  men. 

These  with  kind  countenances  seemed  to  welcome  him.  In  a 
minute  the  tin  plates  down  the  table  were  filled  with  hot  mutton 
broth,  and  a  man  handed  Lloyd  a  spoon  and  motioned  to  the  full 
plate  before  him. 

As  the  young  man  put  his  spoon  into  it,  three  other  Dunker  men 
did  the  same,  all  eating  from  the  same  dish. 

With  difficulty  Lloyd  refrained  from  choking  himself  with  the 
savory  mouthful,  such  laughter  shook  his  stomach. 

"  By  George  !  some  Dutchman  will  kiss  me  next,"  Lloyd  thought, 
"and  then  I  must  either  laugh  out,  or  hit  him." 

But  the  broth  was  good,  and  the  four  men  continued  to  eat  to- 
gether ;  and  one  Dunker  gave  Lloyd  some  pickles,  another  handed 
him  a  slice  of  bread  spread  with  meat  and  apple-butter,  and  a  third 
pushed  over  a  cup  of  coffee. 

Quantrell  adapted  himself  to  the  strange  conditions  easily,  ob- 
serving that  all  over  the  church,  by  fours,  the  men  and  women  were 
eating ;  and  he  now  remembered  that  it  was  at  such  primitive  feast- 
ing when  Christ  had  spoken  to  "  one  leaning  on  his  bosom,"  saying. 
"  He  shall  betray  me  to  whom  I  shall  give  a  sop  when  I  have 
dipped  it." 

Quantrell  had  hardly  thought  of  this,  when  a  voice  in  broken 
English  rang  through  the  church  : 

"  And  after  te  sop,  Satan  entered  into  him.  Den  said  Jesus, 
'  Dat  tou  doest,  do  quickly  ! '  And  Judas  had  te  bag.  He  den,  hav- 
ing received  te  sop,  went  immediately  out,  and  it  was  night." 

A  sudden,  strange  fear  fell  upon  the  young  hunter. 

He  wondered  if  this  did  not  describe  himself,  who  carried  the 
game-bag,  and  had  no  right  part  in  this  solemn  feast  before  the 
crucifixion  of  his  Lord  ! 

Old  legends  learned  in  the  Catholic  college,  old  ghosts  and  mira- 
cles and  coincidences,  came  back  to  his  mind.  The  dim  candles 
and  lamps  seemed  to  be  the  same  which  shone  upon  the  Last  Sup- 
per, and  these  long-bearded,  simple  men  were  the  real  disciples,  and 
yonder  women  were  the  friends  of  the  Madonna  and  her  gifted  boy. 

"  Where,  then,  is  Christ  ? "  Lloyd  Quantrell  asked  himself  in 
scarce  admitted  awe — "  the  Christ  I  shall  betray.^  " 


THE   SACRAMENT. 


83 


He  looked  up,  almost  expecting  to  see  the  halo-lighted  face  and 
searching  eyes. 

The  nearest  to  them  in  beauty  and  pity  and  glory,  were  those  of 
Katy  Bosler,  looking  at  him  ! 

A  hymn  was  now  lined  out,  as  the  love-feast  was  done,  and 
some  one  handed  Lloyd  a  great  hymn-book  in  the  old  German  lan- 
guage. He  looked  at  the  title  with  astonishment,  as  the  translation 
had  been  penciled  beneath  the  old  black  German  text : 

"  The  song  of  the  solitary  a7td  abandoned  Turtle- Dove." 

He  wondered  if  he  could  be  dreaming. 

No  ;  the  words  were  really  there,  and  the  date  and  printing-place 
of  the  book : 

"Ephrata,  Penna.,  1747." 

"Here,  Lloyd,"  the  voice  of  Luther  Bosler  said  again,  "Katy 
wants  you  at  the  communion  !  " 

He  found  himself  sitting  on  the  front  bench  among  the  Dunker 
men.  A  cup  was  in  his  hand  filled  with  grape-wine,  strong  and 
sweet,  and  in  the  other  hand  was  a  cake  of  curious  bread.  On  each 
side  of  him  the  Dunker  men  sat  with  the  very  expressions  he  had 
seen  in  old  engravings  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 

"  I  haf  desired  to  eat  tis  passover  with  you,"  spoke  the  resonant 
voice  again,  "  pefore  I  suffer.  .  .  .  Dis  is  my  pody  which  is  gifen 
for  you.  .  .  .  Dis  cup  is  te  New  Testament  in  my  plood,  to  pe  shed 
for  you.  .  .  .  Pehold  !  te  hand  of  him  dat  petrayeth  me,  is  with  me 
on  dis  table  ! " 

Lloyd  gazed  up  again.  It  seemed  to  be  Katy's  illuminated  eyes 
which  had  spoken. 

He  drank  the  wine,  and  the  bread  stuck  in  his  throat. 

Slowly  there  rose  upon  his  mind  a  feeling  of  religious  consecra- 
tion. 

He  had  been  called  to  the  Lord's  Supper  like  other  fishermen  of 
old,  and  had  dared  to  drink  the  blood  of  the  Virgin  and  the  divine 
Father,  whose  love  had  overshadowed  her.  This  day  he  had  taken 
part  in  the  crucifixion  of  his  Lord. 

He  thought  his  mother  might  be  here,  who  had  so  fervently  be- 
lieved all  this  mystery,  and  dedicated  him  to  Heaven  with  her  dying 
breath.  He  looked  among  the  women  to  see  if  one  like  her  might 
not  be  happy  now,  in  the  wondrous  accident  of  his  coming  to  this 
supper  and  eating  with  these  humble  Christians. 


84  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Katy  was  all  he  saw,  but  the  Dunker  bishop  was  reading : 

"  '  Lord,  why  can  not  I  follow  thee  now  ?  I  will  lay  down  my 
life  for  thy  sake  ! '  " 

A  sense  of  wishing  to  be  a  nobler,  gentler  man,  followed  the 
words,  in  the  young  man's  heart. 

"  Verily,  verily,"  continued  the  bishop,  "  the  cock  shall  not  crow 
till  thou  hast  denied  me  !  " 

The  cock  did  not  crow,  but  a  loud  bark  disturbed  the  wor- 
ship. 

It  was  Hosier's  dog,  Fritz,  standing  in  the  kitchen  door  of  the 
church  and  barking  for  some  one. 

Lloyd's  foot  touched  something  soft. 

Crouched  at  his  feet,  whither  Albion  had  stealthily  insinuated 
himself,  that  dog  was  lying  and  looking  into  Lloyd's  face  with  an 
unsocial  discontent. 

The  moment's  serious  feelings  passed  from  the  young  man's 
mind. 

Lloyd  rose  and  motioned  his  dog  to  leave  the  church,  and  led 
the  way. 

The  Dunkers  had  commenced  to  pray,  and  did  not  look  up  to 
see  him  go. 

Mingling  with  the  idle  spectators  in  the  church-yard,  who  had 
been  fed  like  friends  of  the  members,  Lloyd  fed  the  two  dogs,  and 
looked  at  his  own  with  some  dislike. 

This  dog  was  of  full  English  pointer  blood  and  valuable.  Lloyd 
Quantrell's  father,  in  a  moment  of  unexpected  generosity  at  the  club, 
had  allowed  five  hundred  dollars  to  an  English  gentleman  for  his 
dog,  said  English  gentleman  having  lost  to  Mr.  Abel  Quantrell  one 
thousand  pounds  in  a  night's  encounter  at  draw-poker,  and  there- 
fore having  no  further  use  for  the  dog,  which  he  had  brought  over 
to  assist  him  in  killing  a  vast  vision  of  American  game. 

He  had  gone  to  the  club,  met  Mr.  Quantrell  and  party,  liked 
their  terrapin  and  wine,  and,  after  an  introduction  to  the  pleasures 
of  the  city,  relapsed  to  his  normal  love  of  game,  and  particularly 
of  this  rapid,  bantering,  bluffing,  mettlesome  American  institution 
which  had  been  till  recently  unknown  east  of  Kentucky. 

With  a  full  knowledge  of  the  game  of  poker,  and  but  little  of 
plover  and  partridge,  the  young  man  had  obeyed  a  letter  of  instruc- 
tions from  his  father — in  answer  to  his  own  for  a  further  remittance 
— by  taking  passage  for  Liverpool,  leaving  no  lasting  recollections 


THE   SACRAMENT. 


85 


of  himself  in  Baltimore  except  this  blooded  pointer,  which,  in  his 
honor,  was  called  Albion. 

Albion  was  trim-built  like  all  the  pointer  class,  and,  except  for 
his  speed  and  activity,  would  have  been  a  dandy  among  dogs.  But 
his  strength  of  loins  and  hips,  and  the  powerful  curve  of  his  hind 
legs,  and  a  certain  blunt  strength  of  neck  as  it  solidly  joined  the 
more  delicate  head,  indicated  him  further  as  a  pugilist  dandy,  such 
as  were  not  uncommon  in  those  days,  in  Baltimore. 

Withal,  he  was  more  alert  than  bold,  and  had  his  insinuating  side. 

Looking  into  his  hazel,  yellow  eyes,  soft  yet  with  flame,  as  in  the 
Kentucky  beauty,  their  pupils  almost  black  like  deep  wells  in  am- 
ber, one  said,  "  What  depth  of  sensibility  !  " 

But  closely  watched,  a  sly,  possibly  sneaking  management  of 
those  beautiful  eyes,  arrested  the  critical  student.  They  did  not  like 
close  watching,  and  would  languidly  close  as  if  just  dropping  away 
to  doze,  but  would  open  half-way  and  peep,  and,  if  the  spectator 
turned  his  head,  would  be  found  wide  open,  taking  an  inventory  and 
laying  away  gossip. 

Again,  the  high  blood  and  careful  inbreeding  of  Albion,  though 
expressed  in  his  warm  head-colors  and  almost  dainty  white  skin, 
could,  in  the  obsei-ver's  skeptical  mood,  be  spotted  with  a  certain 
manginess. 

Superficially  he  was  a  beautiful  white  animal,  with  a  small,  deli- 
cate, lemon-colored  bar  on  the  back,  and  a  head  where  the  dark- 
brown  hanging  ear,  like  a  loop  of  lady's  hair,  fell  from  reddish, 
deer-colored  brows,  whose  warm  tint  extended  around  the  eyes  and 
to  the  top  of  the  brain,  and  back  a  little  way  on  the  neck,  opening 
to  let  a  streak  of  white,  with  a  diamond  form  between  the  brows, 
go  down  the  profile  and  cover  all  the  muzzle  except  the  brown  kid 
nose,  so  sensitive,  familiar,  yet  precise,  as  if  it  were  the  organ  of 
fastidious  taste,  and  found  sublimated  odor  in  a  lady's  palm. 

But  that  white  muzzle  was  spotted  with  a  dirty  gray,  as  if  ob- 
scurer tastes  in  the  animal  had  led  it  to  eat  the  bird  it  betrayed  to 
the  gunner. 

Spots  less  objectionable,  yet  spots,  like  freckles  on  a  gentleman, 
went  all  over  the  white  back  and  flanks,  slight  yet  visible  to  exami- 
nation. 

His  flews  just  overhung  the  mouth  without  dropping,  as  in  the 
lips  of  a  man  with  no  unclean  habit  except  a  mouth  full  of  tobacco- 
juice. 


86  KATY  OF  CATOCTIX. 

And  as  for  Albion's  tail,  it  was  like  a  cart-whip  well  flogged  out, 
beginning  as  if  it  were  meant  to  be  grasped  by  a  large  hand,  then 
dropping  off  to  a  mere  string.  It  was  still  his  courageous  part,  and, 
although  his  eyes  looked  mild  and  delicate,  when  another  dog  came 
along  his  tail  would  go  out  and  up,  like  a  wasp's  sting,  and,  if  that 
was  not  alarming  enough,  he  would  stiffen  his  back,  lift  his  jowls, 
and  show  his  row  of  grinders.  Yet  often  he  would  affect  sleep  till 
the  dog  had  passed. 

He  spared  no  birds,  but  seldom  took  up  a  challenge  even  from  a 
terrier.  It  was  generally  remarked  that  he  had  a  delicate  barrel  of 
a  muzzle,  and  an  intellectual,  literary  contour,  but  often  it  looked  hol- 
low as  an  exquisite's  in  consumption. 

These  defects  in  a  valuable  animal  could  have  occurred  to  only 
censorious  people.  Almost  everybody  beheld  the  finest  pointer  in 
Maryland,  soft  yet  with  dignity,  like  a  mistress,  but  a  king's  one. 

At  this  moment  his  raveled  ear,  still  raw  and  bloody,  made  the 
dog  feverish  and  snappish. 

"  I  have  heard,"  thought  Quantrell,  "  of  the  devil  taking  the 
form  of  a  dog,  and  I  begin  to  be  afraid  of  mine." 

Jake  Bosler,  when  the  congregation  was  dismissed,  introduced 
Lloyd  to  many  of  the  Dunker  men,  all  of  whom  seemed  to  be  neigh- 
borly and  cordial,  and  asked  Lloyd  to  come  to  see  them. 

Luther  had  received  an  order  to  attend  some  Dunker  conference 
at  another  church  such  a  considerable  distance  off,  that  he  requested 
his  party  to  get  at  once  into  the  dearborn,  and  Jake  Bosler  took 
Lloyd  by  the  hand,  and  saying — 

"Coom  twict  —  coom,  Lloyd  —  Bi'm-by  " — Jake  executed  the 
Dunker  kiss  upon  the  blushing  Baltimorean. 

They  drove  away  to  the  south  by  a  cross-road,  and  getting  on 
the  great  National  road,  turned  off  to  the  west  and  crossed  the  An- 
tietam  Creek  at  a  mill-town,  by  a  bridge  of  such  unconsciously  beau- 
tiful stone  arches  that  it  seemed  never  to  have  been  made  by  man, 
but  to  have  condensed  from  the  limestone  mists,  in  the  forms  of 
those  old  mill-wheels  which  stirred  the  sluggish  current. 

Between  sycamores  and  willows  the  green  Antietam,  like  a  veil, 
went  winding  among  the  corn-clad  hills,  and,  at  a  cross-lane  beyond 
It,  Luther  turned  up  a  scarcely  trodden  track  where  ledges  of  lime- 
stone cropped  out  here  and  there  and  crumbled  into  clover. 

Passing  through  some  corn-fields  whose  long  barrels  and  plumes 
were  stacked  in  rusty  lines,  they  saw  at  the  side  of  another  turnpike- 


THE    SACRAMENT.  g- 

road  in  a  beautiful  woods  of  hickory,  oak,  and  chestnut,  a  square, 
chunky  brick  church  with  a  steep  roof.  The  clean,  park-like  woods 
revealed  the  limestone  strata  in  parallel  lines,  ^nd  separate  rocks 
and  bowlders  strewn  about ;  and  here,  descending.  Katy  spread  the 
lunch  from  her  basket. 

Nelly  Harbaugh  was  very  attentive  to  Luther,  and  when  he 
went  into  the  Dunker  church  she  begged  to  go  with  him  also. 

"I  am  afraid  to  let  you  leave  me  an  hour,"  sighed  the  girl; 
"  there  is  such  comfort,  Luther,  in  being  with  you." 

Then  Lloyd  and  Katy  strolled  to  a  neighboring  burial-ground, 
and.  sitting  there  in  sight  of  the  mountains,  felt  all  the  tender  joys 
of  love  compressed  and  ardent. 

He  told  her  all  about  himself,  his  temptations  and  his  needs,  the 
instincts  for  a  purer  life  within  him  and  the  consolation  of  this  great 
round  day,  hastening  to  its  eve— the  first  eventful  one  in  all  his  life. 

"  Lloyd,"  said  Katy,  "  I  feel  all  you  say,  too.  But  it  is  danger- 
ous for  a  poor  girl  to  trust  a  man  Hke  you.  I  haf  been  thinking 
about  it,  and  I  haf  been  warned." 

"  Katy,"  said  Lloyd,  "you  have  kept  a  secret  from  me.  What 
evil  thing  did  that  fortune-teller  say  }  " 

"Here  it  is,"  answered  Katy,  "in  English.  I  can  make  poetry 
a  little." 

"  Read  it,  you  timid  little  goose  !  " 

Katy  read,  between  shyness  and  a  shudder,  these  lines : 

"  In  this  hand  I  see  a  ring : 
Thou  shaft  lose  it,  pretty  thing  ! 
Wading  for  it  down  a  brook, 
Thou  shalt  find  it  by  a  book." 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it,  Katy  ?  "  Lloyd  asked. 

"Some  one  will  try  to  deceive  me." 

"  I  never  will,  my  darling  !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  marry  me,  perhaps  ?  "  asked  Katy,  rallying  all 
her  courage  to  her  eyes. 

"  Yes.  I  have  my  father's  consent  to  get.  He  is  a  Catholic. 
But  I  will  engage  myself  this  day  to  make  you  my  wife.  Give  me 
your  dear  little  hand  ! " 

She  placed  it  in  his  with  the  excitement  of  delight  and  fear.  He 
slipped  a  ring  upon  her  finger  which  he  had  worn  upon  his  watch- 
stem. 


88  KATY  OF   CATOCTIA'. 

"  Katy,"  said  he,  "  that  was  my  mother's  mourning  and  wedding 
ring ;  her  father,  the  foremost  gentleman  in  Marj'land,  left  it  to  her 
by  his  will.     Take  it  with  this  kiss,  and  promise  to  be  my  wife." 

"Whenefer  you  ask  me,  Lloyd,"  the  girl  replied  with  eyes 
gemmed  with  bright  tears.  "  You  haf  taken  of  Christ's  sacrament 
with  me  this  day,  and  your  heart  is  clean.  We  are  near  my  moth- 
er's grave,  who  went  to  Antietam  church." 

He  kissed  her  as  purely  as  the  fond  young  heart  in  passion  can 
intend,  and  then,  opening  her  basket,  she  brought  out  her  accordion. 

"  I  had  nothing  else  I  loved  so  much  as  this,"  said  Katy,  "  and  I 
fetched  it  to  gif  you.  When  you  play  it  you  will,  I  hope,  think  of 
me ;  for  when  you  are  gone,  I  can  play  it  no  more." 

He  felt  the  tears  come  to  his  own  eyes  as  he  touched  the  keys 
and  valves,  and  played  a  little  love-tune  in  the  fields  of  Antietam. 

"  What's  that  }  "  Quantrell  asked,  when  he  had  finished. 

"  Some  other  music,  somewhere,"  Katy  replied.  "  May  pe  it's  on 
te  canal ;  for  te  Potomac  River  is  pack  yonder  through  te  woods." 

"  I  thought  I  heard  a  drum  and  fife  in  the  corn-field  yonder," 
Lloyd  spoke. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  soldiers'  music  too,"  Katy  whispered.  "  Te 
dog  hears  it,  Lloyd." 

The  big  gray  mastiff  stood  with  his  ears  up.  Albion  was  fairly 
gamboling,  as  if  he  danced  to  the  mystic  instruments. 

The  sound,  if  it  were  not  the  insects  in  the  trees  or  crops,  died 
away,  and  only  the  Dunkers  were  heard  singing  in  their  lowly 
meeting. 

"  Lloyd,"  Katy  murmured,  "let  us  go  stand  at  mother's  grave 
and  say  te  Words." 


CHAPTER   X. 

ISAAC   smith's   farm. 

A  SMALL  town  of  limestone,  log,  and  painted  brick  houses,  with 
a  sunny  square  in  the  middle,  was  near  the  Dunker  church,  and  as 
Luther  and  Lloyd  rode  the  uncoupled  horses  into  an  arched  spring 
of  water  which  gushed  from  the  ground  close  by,  a  person  came  to 
ask  them  if  they  could  deliver  a  letter  on  one  of  the  mountain  roads. 

"  It's  to  a  Mr.  Isaac  Smith,  who  rents  our  farm  there,"  said  the 


ISAAC   SMITH'S  FARM.  8q 

letter-bearer.  "  We  want  him  to  send  our  cow  up  here  to  Sharps- 
burg." 

"  I  don't  go  that  road,"  Luther  replied.  "  My  horses  will  pe  tired, 
and  I  shall  cross  te  mountain  at  Crampton's  Gap." 

"I'll  take  the  letter,"  Lloyd  exclaimed,  "fori  shall  leave  you, 
Luther,  at  the  road  this  side  the  mountain,  and  walk  down  to  Har- 
per's Ferry.     I  know  Isaac  Smith  very  well." 

They  crossed  the  Antietam  by  another  blue-stone  bridge  of  arches, 
hidden  under  the  hills,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  reached  a  wild  road 
which  ran  parallel  with  the  Blue  Ridge. 

"  I  must  save  my  horses,  Lloyd,  or  I  would  trife  you  to  te  Ferry ; 
put  tey  must  plow  pefore  sunrise.  Let  me  gif  you  a  Tunker  brother's 
kiss  pefore  you  go." 

Again  the  bearded  mouth  of  Luther  met  Lloyd's  nearly  hairless 
lips.  Nelly  Harbaugh  said  :  "  Lloyd,  we  are  friends  :  I  forgive  you, 
and  shall  disappoint  your  fears  of  me."  Little  Katy  received  the 
last  kiss,  and  again  the  tears  shone  in  her  large  eyes  as  Lloyd  said, 
"  I  won't  go  home,  my  darling,  till  I  see  you  again." 

He  stood  waving  his  hat  till  the  rattle  of  the  disappearing  wagon 
turned  into  that  sound  he  had  heard  by  the  Antietam  church — of  a 
fife  and  a  drum,  in  the  distance,  toward  Crampton's  Gap. 

"  These  mountains  are  haunted  everyAvhere,"  Lloyd  Quantrell 
said,  and  turned  down  the  stony  road. 

He  had  not  walked  far  before  his  dog  became  suspicious  and, 
growling,  ran  into  the  dogwood  and  alder  brush.  A  woman  on  a 
single- footed  racker  came  toward  him,  rapidly  riding,  and,  glancing 
at  him,  reined  her  horse  without  stopping  and  pointed  across  the 
mountain. 

"  Yonder  is  your  way  to-night,  Lloyd  Quantrell,"  she  cried — "  to 
the  Catoctin  Valley.  This  road  is  rough  and  dangerous,  and  spirits 
are  abroad  upon  it  after  dark." 

"  Let  the  spirits  come.  Mother  Ritner  !  I  have  a  dog  and  a  gun, 
and  have  eaten  the  sacrament  to-day." 

"You  will  find  that  to-night,"  exclaimed  the  woman,  "which 
will  change  your  destiny  !  " 

She  was  gone  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  and  the  sun,  now  sinking  below 
the  North  Mountain,  left  a  cool  shadow  on  the  Blue  Ridge  like  bil- 
lows on  a  sea.  Lloyd  walked  rapidly,  whistling  for  his  dog,  and 
when  Albion  reappeared  the  big  mastiff  Fritz  was  in  his  company. 
He  stamped  for  Bosler's  dog  to  go  back,  but  the  influence  of  the 


90 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


pointer  was  still  greatest,  and  both  dogs  bounded  down  the  road  to 
the  south  and  were  soon  out  of  sight. 

"  Dear  little  Katy  !  "  exclaimed  the  traveler — "  to  giv-e  me  her 
accordion  and  forget  it  was  so  heavy  !  I  have  more  money,  too,  than 
it  is  safe  to  travel  with — five  hundred  dollars — and  Harper's  Ferry 
has  hard  people  in  it — Poles,  Dutch,  Jews,  Scotch,  the  scum  of  the 
earth  ! " 

He  reflected  that  this  day  had  made  him  softer  toward  one 
Dutch  family. 

"Heigh-ho!"  continued  Ouantrell,  "we  know  not  what  a  day 
may  bring  forth.  I  told  my  father,  who  called  me  a  '  rowdy '  before 
I  left  Baltimore,  that  I  would  marry  any  wife  he  would  recommend. 
I  hope  he  hasn't  taken  me  at  my  word,  but  he  is  quick  on  the  trig- 
ger.    Let  me  see  !  " 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  and  remembered  that  a  train  went 
through  Harper's  Ferry  to  Baltimore  after  midnight. 

"  I  will  stay  up  for  that  train,"  said  Lloyd,  "  and  go  and  tell  my 
father  I  am  caught  and  engaged.  He  believes  in  love-matches,  he 
once  told  me,  and  my  mother  never  thought  she  had  his  real  heart, 
though  he  was  kind  to  her.  No,  I  must  not  waste  a  single  day,  for, 
next  to  Katy's  affection,  I  want  my  father's." 

The  road  seemed  to  get  a  peculiar,  reflected  light  from  the 
higher  Elk  Mountain  as  it  kept  well  up  on  the  lesser  range,  and  every 
object  dwelt  in  as  much  distinctness  as  the  evening  cow-bells  made 
distinctest  music  ;  yet  everything  startled  the  heart  a  little,  while 
keeping  it  in  a  sunset  tone  of  ecstasy. 

The  log-houses  grew  small  and  seldom,  and  the  stony  farms 
were  dry.  Sometimes  small  pines  darkened  the  way,  and  made 
Lloyd,  as  he  entered  their  defile,  keep  his  gun  cocked. 

"I  can't  be  far  from  Isaac  Smith's."  he  thought.  "If  it's  not 
the  next  clearing,  I  will  get  rid  of  this  accordion,  for  my  arm  is  sore, 
carrying  the  rough-shaped  thing." 

It  was  not  the  next  clearing,  nor  the  next,  and  he  was  resolved 
to  hide  the  accordion  somewhere  or  throw  it  away.  Katy,  he  con- 
sidered, would  not  miss  it,  or  would  take  a  better  one  for  it.  Dark- 
ness was  settling  upon  the  twilight,  and  he  was  thirsty  for  water. 

The  sound  of  a  flowing  stream  soon  tinkled  in  the  cool  evening. 
Lloyd  knelt  to  drink  of  a  blackish  branch  which  crossed  the  road. 
As  he  arose,  a  voice,  from  the  dusk  somewhere,  cried  : 

"  Halt ! " 


ISAAC  SMITH'S  FARM. 


91 


"  Isaac  Smith's  house — is  it  far?  "  Lloyd  cocked  his  gun  as  he 
spoke. 

"  Yar  it  is,"  answered  the  voice,  not  very  welcoming,  nor  yet 
confident. 

"  Thank  St.  Paul !  "  exclaimed  the  gunner,  dropping  his  caution. 
"  If  you  had  said  '  No,'  I  should  have  thrown  poor  Katy's  accordion 
away.     Now  I  can  leave  it  here." . 

He  stepped  forward  and  saw  a  colored  man  standing  in  a  kind 
of  lane,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Ashby  !  who  s^Xyou  free  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  negro — the  same  who  had  been 
carried  back  to  slavery  that  morning  from  Smoketown  ;  "  somebody 
did  it.  Them  yer !  "  He  indicated,  with  a  shining  something  in  his 
hand,  a  sign  of  habitation  up  the  lane. 

"  What's  this  }  "  Lloyd  asked.  "  A  spear  ?  No,  I  see  ;  it's 
Smith's  fishing-gig.  What  are  you  doing  with  it,  after  dark  }  Rob- 
bing Smith  }  " 

"No,"  answered  the  negro,  confused  and  uncertain.  "I'sesot 
yer.  I  don't  know  what  fur.  If  you  know  them  yer,  I  s'posen 
you  kin  go  in." 

Lloyd's  attention  was  now  called  to  the  dogs  reappearing  and 
lapping  of  the  brook.  As  he  called  them  to  him,  Albion  snarled  at 
the  negro,  who  awkwardly  brought  his  singular  weapon  down  to 
defend  himself. 

"  Search  on  !  "  commanded  the  gunner,  and  Fritz  led  the  way  up 
the  lane. 

The  moon  and  stars  came  out  from  some  lowering  clouds  as  he 
advanced,  and  showed  upon  a  low  ridge  before  him  some  scattered 
buildings,  and  he  stopped  upon  a  small  bridge  in  the  lane  to  listen 
to  some  human  sounds  he  heard.  The  stream  under  his  feet  ran 
from  an  old  log  spring-house  in  a  kind  of  bottom  or  hollow,  and  a 
torch  moved  under  some  oaks  at  this  spring ;  and  a  torch,  likewise, 
on  the  crest  of  the  field,  shone  upon  some  forms  of  men  around  a 
little  house.  A  metallic  voice  Lloyd  was  not  unfamiliar  with  was 
speaking,  and  the  stranger  caught  only  these  words : 

"If  it  is  necessary  to  take  life  in  order  to  save  your  own,  then 
make  sure  work  of  it.  .  .  .  And  look  to  no  dissolution  of  the  Union, 
but  simply  to  amendment  and  repeal ;  and  our  flag  shall  be  the  same 
that  our  fathers  fought  under  in  the  Revolution  ! " 

"  Why,  that's  dear  old  Smith's  voice  !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd.     "  Still 


9^ 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


crazy  on  the  subject  of  the  Revolutionary  War!  I'm  glad  he's 
home." 

He  continued  up  the  rough,  stony  lane  nearly  to  some  low  bams, 
and,  turning  in  at  the  top,  entered  a  little  yard,  in  which  were  fruit- 
trees.  A  small  log-house  was  built  against  the  hill-side,  with  a  high 
porch  along  its  eaves,  and,  between  this  house  and  a  Dutch  oven,  a 
small  open  space  was  filled  with  men.  Advancing  among  these, 
Lloyd  exclaimed,  cheerfully : 

"  Mr.  Smith — pep,  I'm  in  luck  again  to  find  you  here." 

To  his  astonishment,  a  powerful  hand  immediately  seized  his 
collar  and  held  him  tight. 

"  Bring  that  torch  here ! "  spoke  the  firm  voice  of  Isaac  Smith. 

A  torch  came  near,  and,  as  it  flashed  upon  Llo3-d  Quantrell's 
face,  a  person  twisted  his  gun  out  of  his  hand  and  another  person 
seized  the  accordion. 

"Father,  it's  Mr.  Ouantrell,"  spoke  up  the  voice  of  young  Wat- 
son Smith. 

"  How  did  you  pass  the  picket }  "  asked  Oliver  Smith,  with  a 
wondering  face. 

"Why,  friends,"  Lloyd  said,  "a  black  fellow  at  the  gate  found  I 
knew  you.  He  wasn't  as  uncivil  as  this  other  nigger  who  has  got 
my  gun  !  " 

Turning,  Lloyd  indicated  a  large,  handsome  mulatto  man,  who 
stood  looking  at  him  with  an  alert,  undismayed  eye,  unlike  that  of 
any  negro  Lloyd  had  ever  seen. 

"  Newby,"  spoke  Oliver  Smith,  "go  away  !     Give  me  the  gun." 

It  was  good  advice,  for  the  laws  of  hospitality  could  hardly  keep 
the  white  Marylander  in  check  when  treated  disrespectfully  by  a 
slave. 

"  A  man  prowling  through  the  mountains  with  a  gun,  on  the 
Sabbath-night,  must  give  an  account  of  himself,  sir,"  spoke  Isaac 
Smith. 

"  Why,  my  dear  old  man,  I  came  to  bring  you  a  letter  from  your 
landlord,  who  wants  his  cow.  I  think  I  wouldn't  have  taken  the 
trouble,  but  that  I  was  going  to  the  Ferry  to  get  the  train. — Don't 
look  at  me  so  hard,  men ;  the  worst  about  me  is — I'm  hungry." 

Isaac  Smith  took  the  letter,  and,  with  a  perplexed  look,  re- 
marked : 

"  I  don't  want  to  treat  you  uncivil,  sir,  if  you  came  upon  an  hon- 
est errand. — Stevens,  you  and  Mr.  Kagi  get  some  of  that  pork  for 


ISAAC  SMITH'S  FARM. 


93 


Mr.  Quantrell,  and  take  him  to  the  spring-house  and  examine 
him." 

Greatly  puzzled  to  know  what  it  could  all  mean,  Lloyd,  with  a 
slavery-bred  man's  instinct  for  guessing  wild,  and  being  easily  satis- 
fied, considered  that  Smith  might  be  a  lunatic  keeping  a  sort  of 
mountain  sanitarium  for  other  lunatics. 

The  two  men  led  him  down  the  path  to  the  old  log  dairy  with 
its  hooded  roof,  and,  sitting  there,  looked  at  him  intently  and  silently 
while  he  ate  some  lean  pork  and  filled  his  fiask-cup. 

"  We  can  get  three  drinks  out  of  this  old  thing  yet,  if  we  divide 
fair,"  cried  Lloyd. 

"  Take  it  all  yourself,"  said  the  man  addressed  as  Stevens,  with 
a  certain  cool,  bold  self-reliance. 

"  That  will  be  cleared  off  the  earth  too,  some  day,  I  calkelate," 
added  the  other  man,  who  had  been  addressed  as  Kagi. 

"  You  mean  whisky  ?  "  laughed  Quantrell,  holding  the  glass  up 
to  the  torch,  which  now  illuminated  the  old  spring-house  till  some 
bats  or  swallows  there  sailed  out  into  the  night ;  "  it's  cleared  off  the 
earth  every  rye-harvest  now,  and  given,  like  man,  to  the  worm." 

"  Cool  chap  !  "  said  Stevens,  looking  at  Kagi. 

"  What's  that  about  the  worm } "  asked  Kagi,  not  informed 
about  distilling  processes. 

"  The  worm,"  replied  Lloyd.  "  is  what  alcohol  ascends  to  spirit 
through,  and,  so,  another  worm  eats  man  before  he  can  be  a  saint. 
So  here's  to  the  worm  !  " 

As  Quantrell  raised  the  glass  and  emptied  it,  a  look  of  dislike, 
and  then  of  pallor,  came  over  Kagi's  face.  The  torch  in  his  hand 
drooped  nearly  to  the  water,  and  oil  or  pitch  ran  out  of  it  upon  the 
bubbling  spring. 

"  He  is  not  safe,"  muttered  Kagi  to  Stevens. 

"  He  believes,  like  me,  in  the  world  of  spirits,"  Stevens  said. — 
"  Give  me  your  glass,  Quantrell !  Here's  to  the  Worm  that  distills 
us  to  the  stars  !  " 

As  Stevens  handed  the  cup  back,  Lloyd  looked  at  these  two 
with  an  interest  always  inspired  by  self-contained  men. 

Both  were  of  fine,  if  uncultivated,  appearance.  Kagi  seemed  to 
be  the  more  intelligent  of  the  two,  Stevens  the  more  independent. 
Lloyd  felt  that  he  had  not  made  an  impression  upon  either  of  them, 
but  Stevens  seemed  indifferent  or  careless  to  his  approaches ;  Kagi 
was  almost  aggressive,  yet  disturbed. 


94 


KATY   OF   CATOCTIN. 


Kagi  was  large,  almost  portly,  with  black  beard,  weather- exposed, 
and  long  black  hair,  Stevens  was  not  so  tall  but  more  symmetrical 
and  powerful,  with  military  shoulders,  straight,  clean-made  hands,  a 
head  poised  in  conscious  strength  of  animal  life,  a  skin  soft  as  a 
woman's,  dark-brown  hair,  beard  over  all  his  jaws,  and  hazel  eyes 
which  were  both  contumacious  and  keen. 

"Did  Pop  Smith  buy  the  dark  fellow  I  passed  at  the  gate  ?  " 
Lloyd  asked. 

"  Traded  for  him,"  Stevens  replied. 

"  Give  'em  a  httle  something — to  boot,"  put  in  Kagi,  shaking  off 
his  heaviness. 

Both  men  laughed. 

"  Well,"  said  Lloyd,  "  that  was  my  idea  of  Father  Smith,  that  he 
was  kind  to  people.  That's  why  I  can't  understand  his  way  of 
treating  me  to-night." 

"  Have  you  got  any  slaves  to  trade  him  }  "  asked  Kagi,  with  in- 
terest. 

"  None  I  can  control ;  mine  won't  come  into  my  possession  for 
more  than  a  year." 

"  Quantrell,"  said  Stevens,  "  Mr.  Smith  is  about  moving  from 
the  farm.  You  got  here  just  as  everything  was  packed.  That's 
why  you  see  so  many  people  around ;  moving  a  neighbor,  you 
know. " 

"  Why,  that's  just  it,"  exclairned  the  young  stranger,  throwing 
away  all  offense.     "  Let's  go  up  and  make  him  apologize." 

"  No,"  said  Stevens,  "  he's  pecuHar.  Go  up  and  bid  him  good- 
night— unless  he  makes  you  stay." 

"  Can't  stay,"  laughed  Lloyd,  gayly ;  "I'm  just  in  love  to-day, 
and  going  to  ask  my  governor's  consent,  by  to-night's  train." 

They  found  comparatively  few  persons  now  at  the  dwelling, 
which  was  a  miserable  home  for  a  man  with  six  slaves — a  long  hut, 
half  buried  in  the  hill,  so  that  there  was  a  mere  cellar  under  its 
high,  rickety  porch,  and  a  small  story  and  loft  above.  A  candle  as- 
sisted to  reveal  thus  much,  and  boxes,  trunks,  and  cheap  valises,  re- 
cently packed  or  emptied,  were  seen  within  this  cellar.  Not  far 
behind  the  house  the  small  pines  grew  dense  and  black,  and  clouds 
were  hurrying  in  the  sky  as  the  winds  rose  and  whistled. 

"  Is  it  correct,  gentlemen  ?  "  asked  Isaac  Smith. 

"Fuddled,"  said  Stevens. 

"Mysterious,"  said  Kagi. 


KATY'S  ACCORDION.  ge 

"  Who  is  that  young  person  making  free  with  my  girl's  accor- 
dion ? "  spoke  up  Quantrell,  hearing  the  instrument  awkwardly 
played. 

"  That's  Captain  Cook,"  answered  Isaac  Smith.  "  He's  quite 
a  cultivated  person  and  a  teacher." 


CHAPTER   XI. 

katy's  accordion. 

A  SMALL,  Stooping,  light-haired  lad  came  out  with  the  accor- 
dion and  looked  at  Lloyd  through  pale- blue  eyes,  which  seemed  to 
feel  his  accomplishments. 

Lloyd  took  Katy's  gift  and  put  his  fingers  to  the  keys. 

A  little  culture,  if  learned  in  engine-houses  and  partisan  clubs, 
helps  many  a  man  through  life. 

Something  about  these  people  seemed  still  suspectful  and  for- 
bidding. Quantrell  had  tried  his  temperament  upon  them  in  vain, 
and  now  he  had  only  some  rude  tunes  to  lull  them  with. 

He  began  to  play  "  Home,  Sweet  Home." 

After  a  few  strains,  other  persons  seemed  to  come  in,  as  if  from 
the  barns  and  corn-cribs  and  pine  thickets.  At  first  sullen,  next 
wondering,  and  soon  affected  tenderly,  they  lay  in  blankets  upon 
the  autumn  earth,  or  stood  around  in  curious  groups,  while  he 
played  the  air  that  the  simple  and  the  cot-bred  of  the  British  races 
know  everywhere. 

Some  of  the  people  who  ventured  near  were  negroes,  strange- 
looking  negroes  for  Maryland  or  for  the  American  States  anywhere 
— so  wanting  in  politeness  or  even  hospitality  ;  preoccupied,  too,  as 
if  with  the  morrow's  house-moving  occupations  ;  but  these  soon 
felt  the  infection  of  the  tender  tune,  and  one  young,  handsome  white 
boy  came  up  and  sat  by  Lloyd  upon  an  old  hair-trunk  and  listening, 
filled  with  tears  at  his  bright  eyes.  Lloyd  sang  the  words  in  his  own 
melodious  voice : 

"  An  exile  from  home,  pleasure  dazzles  in  vain, 
Ah  !  give  me  my  lowly  thatched  cottage  again  ; 
The  birds  singing  sweetly  that  came  to  my  call, 
Give  them  back,  and  my  peace  of  mind,  dearer  than  all." 


gg-  KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 

As  the  song  finished,  a  sob  was  heard  at  Ouantrell's  elbow.  Wat- 
son Smith  came  up  and  said  to  the  young  man  sitting  there  : 

"  Ned.  what  ails  you  ?  " 

"  I've  got  people  in  Iowa  and  my  own  land  there." 

"Isabel,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  broken  tone. 

"Play  something,  Mr.  Quantrell,"  spoke  Isaac  Smith,  "which 
will  remind  us  of  the  Sabbath  and  the  heavenly  rest ;  for  here  we 
have  no  abiding-place." 

A  camp-meeting  tune,  the  favorite  of  his  deceased  mother,  came 
to  Quantrell's  memory  and  art,  and  in  the  cool  mountain  air  these 
simple  strains  ascended : 

"  I'm  a  pilgrim   and   I'm   a  stranger;    I  can  tarry,  I  can  tarry  but  a 
night ; 
Do  not  detain  me,  for  I  am  going  to  where  the  streamlets  are  ever 
flowing  ; 
I'm  a  pilgrim  and  I'm  a  stranger — I  can  tarry,  I  can  tarry  but  a  night  ! 

"  There  the  sunbeams  are  ever  shining,  and  I'm  longing,  I  am  longing 
for  the  sight ; 
Within  a  country  unknown  and  dreary,  I  have  been  wandering  for- 
lorn and  weary  ; 
I'm  a  pilgrim  and  I'm  a  stranger — I  can  tarry,  I  can  tarry  but  a  night. 

"  Of  that  country  to  which  I'm  going,  my  Redeemer,  my  Redeemer  is 
the  Light  ! 
There  is  no  sorrow  nor  any  sighing,  nor  any  sin  there,  nor  any  dying ; 
I'm  a  pilgrim  and  I'm  a  stranger — I  can  tarry,  I  can  tarry  but  a  night  !  " 

During  this  singing  a  torch  had  been  procured,  which  showed  all 
the  faces,  even  to  the  outer  parts  of  the  humble  circle.  There 
seemed  to  be  at  least  twenty  men  present,  and  not  a  single  woman. 
Of  Smith's  own  sons  there  were  manifestly  three,  resembling  each 
other  even  in  their  differences ;  and  two  young  men,  addressed  as 
Thompson,  of  very  pleasing  countenances,  Lloyd  found  to  be  old 
Mr.  Smith's  sons-in-law.  One  of  these,  of  a  most  cordial  face  and 
manly  figure,  was  looking  at  the  stranger  as  he  finished  the  last 
tune,  and  Quantrell  spoke  up  : 

"Now,  WilHam — I  heard  friend  Watson  say  'Isabel'  just  now. 
That's  your  sister,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"  You're  right,  sir,"  the  young  man  exclaimed  ;  "my  sister's  mar- 
ried to  him,  and  his  sister  Ruth's  married  to  my  brother." 


KATY'S  ACCORDION. 


97 


"  Well,  now,  in  honor  of  that  union  I'll  play  you  one  more  tune 
before  I  say  'Good-night.'  " 

Mr.  Thompson  hesitated. 

"  Do  you  know  '  America  ' .''  "  he  asked. 

"  Is  this  it,  William  ?  " 

Lloyd  found  in  his  mind  the  measure  and  the  words,  and  other 
voices  joined  in  as  he  proceeded,  till  the  last  stanza  pealed  on  the 
mountain  night  in  trembling  tones  the  player  never  forgot : 

"  My  country  !  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  Liberty, 

Of  thee  I  sing  ; 
Land  where  my  fathers  died. 
Land  of  the  Pilgrim's  pride, 
From  every  mountain-side 

Let  Freedom  ring  ! 

"  Let  music  swell  the  breeze, 
And  ring  from  all  the  trees 

Sweet  Freedom's  song  ! 
Let  mortal  tongues  awake, 
Let  all  that  breathe  partake, 
Let  rocks  their  silence  break. 

The  sound  prolong  !  " 

Whites  sang  it ;  blacks  seemed  singing,  too ;  but  it  was  not,  to 
Lloyd's  idea,  a  tune  for  blacks,  though  they  might  hear  it. 

At  the  resounding  end,  where  '*  God,  the  author  of  Liberty,"  is 
appealed  to,  to  keep  us  "in  Freedom's  holy  light,"  and  "  protect  us 
by  his  might,"  Isaac  Smith  made  all  rise. 

"We  will  pray  in  the  spirit  of  that  hymn,"  he  said,  "and  send 
each  other  on  his  way  with  God's  blessing !  " 

Lloyd  looked  around,  and  the  words  of  the  prayer  impressed  him 
less  than  the  manner  of  the  listeners. 

Stevens  and  Kagi  were  looking  at  Lloyd.  Cook  was  stooping 
by  the  accordion  as  if  he  meditated  a  tune  after  the  prayer  which 
would  put  Lloyd's  performances  out  of  praise ;  nearly  all  the  rest, 
whites  and  blacks,  were  standing  or  leaping  with  the  expressions  of 
people  at  a  fqnpral  where  the  dead  was  being  re-hearsed  by  thi 
preacher.  Some  had  hands  over  their  eyes  ;  others  with  eyes  closed 
seemed  muttering  responses ;  a  few  knelt  on  the  ground  and  bowed 
low. 

5 


98 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


The  imperfect  light  of  torch  and  stars  and  fiery  clouds  showed 
chiefly  the  Mosaic  old  man  in  the  midst,  surrounded  by  his  sons 
and  sons-in-law,  plainly  praying-,  without  the  least  excitement,  in 
the  practical  tones  he  might  have  used  to  order  his  farm-work  to 
be  done.  The  words  would  have  seemed  full  of  feeling  if  the  man- 
ner had  not  been  so  orderly  and  precise,  and  Lloyd  remarked  to 
himself : 

"  Pop  Smith  isn't  the  actor  he  was  on  the  mountain  yesterday. 
What  can  these  people  be  so  much  interested  for  ?  " 

He  heard  himself  alluded  to,  toward  the  last,  as  "  the  young  friend 
who,  taking  our  hearts  by  music  to  home,  admonishes  us  of  them 
whose  hearts  and  homes  are  never  recognized.  Those  dear  tunes 
of  home,  country,  and  heaven  must  be  our  only  drum  and  fife.  Lord  ! 
— as  here  we  tarry  but  a  night." 

A  sob  seemed  to  go  around  somewhere  in  the  dark,  and  there 
were  sounds  as  of  negroes  in  convulsive  prayer.  Seeking  to  separate 
these  mystic  noises,  Quantrell  felt  his  hand  grasped  by  long,  bony 
fingers,  and  as  if  still  praying,  Isaac  Smith  was  talking  to  him  : 

"  Go,  young  man  !  The  Lord  bless  you  for  the  music  you  have 
brought  and  the  pious  mother,  perhaps,  who  taught  you  tunes  so 
comforting  to  these  poor  people !  Keep  off  the  streets !  Don't 
expose  yourself !  Don't  stand  on  the  corners,  particularly  ! — Captain 
Cook,  go  with  him  past  the  limits." 

"  I  must  be  getting  a  reputation  all  over  Maryland,"  Lloyd 
thought,  "  for  standing  at  the  street  corners  in  Baltimore.  My  gov- 
ernor lectured  me  about  it  when  he  sent  me  off  gunning.  Well, 
now  I  am  in  love  I  shall  stop  loafing." 

"  Will  you  take  the  accordion  along,  Quantrell }  "  said  Captain 
Cook,  looking  at  it  wistfully. 

"  I  would  like  to  leave  my  accordion  here  and  my  dog  Fritz," 
Lloyd  replied,  looking  around  upon  the  people,  who  still  watched 
him  curiously ;  "  but,  if  you  are  going  to  move,  they  won't  be  safe." 

"  Oh,"  said  Stevens,  "  Mr.  Smith  is  only  going  to  move  to  his 
other  house,  across  the  road  yonder," 

Following  the  gesture,  Lloyd  saw  a  light  a  good  way  off,  moving 
at  some  windows. 

"  Is  this  the  dog  ?  "  old  Isaac  Smith  asked,  bringing  Fritz  for- 
ward. To  Lloyd's  admiration  that  sturdy  mastiff  made  no  resist- 
ance as  Smith  tied  him  fast  to  the  railing  of  the  little  porch  above. 

"Copeland — Green,"  Smith  spoke  to  two  of  the  negroes,  "put 


KA  TV'S  A CCORDION. 


99 


food  and  water  by  Mr.  Quantrell's  dog. — You  will  be  sure  to  find 
him  here,  sir,  when  you  return." 

As  Fritz  yielded  to  the  gentle  hand  and  firm  control  of  Isaac 
Smith,  the  highly  bred  Albion,  seeing  the  companion  he  had  misled 
now  tied  fast  and  apparently  in  subjection,  darted  upon  Fritz  with 
treachery  and  fury,  and  seemed  resolved  to  get  an  ear  for  an  ear.  He 
reckoned  without  his  host,  however,  for  Isaac  Smith,  kicking  Albion 
almost  without  effort,  caught  him  also  by  the  muzzle  and  tail  as  he 
turned  in  pain,  and  threw  him  right  over  the  railing.  Half  a  dozen 
persons  below  kicked  him  along  their  line,  and,  frightened  almost 
to  death,  the  pointer  fled  down  the  lane. 

"  He'll  go  along  with  you  meekly,  now,  Mr.  Quantrell,"  Smith 
remarked,  without  apology.  "  You'll  never  get  much  pleasure  from 
him,  sir.  The  spaniel  crossed  on  the  cruel  hound,  however  high  he 
is  bred,  does  not  get  the  stability  of  such  useful  and  faithful  domes- 
tic mongrels  as  this  !  " 

Putting  his  hand  upon  Fritz,  that  big  creature  set  his  head  be- 
tween Isaac  Smith's  knees  and  wagged  his  tail. 

"  Come,"  said  little  Captain  Cook  to  Quantrell. 

"  Good-night,  my  mountain  friends !  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  cried, 
cheerily,  at  the  head  of  the  lane.  "  You're  rough,  but  ready,  I  know. 
We'll  meet,  I  hope,  agam." 

"  Good-night !  "  rang  out  many  voices  ;  and  still  the  sense  of  some 
dislike  or  doubt  of  himself  seemed  to  linger  in  those  sounds,  and  the 
last  looks  from  the  by-standers  had  something  predatory  in  them. 

He  felt  this  so  instinctively  that  he  walked  ver}'  slowly  and  cool- 
hearted  down  the  lane,  as  if  there  might  be  an  enemy  behind  him. 

Near  the  gate  stood  a  black  man  with  the  shining  something 
still  in  his  hand,  and  to  him  Cook  dropped  a  word. 

"  Now,  Quantrell,"  said  Cook,  after  walking  some  distance  along 
the  road,  "  you'll  find  this  accordion  in  the  garret  under  the  eaves, 
if  they  can't  find  it  for  you.  You  owe  to  it  more  than  you  at  pres- 
ent know.  If  I  hadn't  my  hands  full  now,  I  would  learn  to  play  it 
before  you  came  back.  Anyway,  I  know  I'm  a  better  shot  than 
you.     You'll  be  proud  some  day  that  you  knew  me.     Goodnight !  " 

"  Good-night,  Cook.  With  that  good  opinion  of  yourself  I  know 
you'll  be  heard  from,"  spoke  Lloyd,  laughing — "  Come,  Albion  !  " 

The  dog  now  truckled  low  to  Quantrell,  and  almost  retarded  his 
way,  so  obsequious  was  he  after  his  late  contemptuous  chastise- 
ment ;  but  his  master  was  depressed  in  spirits  from  some  unknown 


lOO  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

reason,  and  the  animal's  attentions  did  not  compose  the  dang-ers  of 
the  road. 

A  slight  sense  of  bodily  fear  which  he  had  been  ashamed  to  rec- 
ognize in  all  these  mountain  wanderings,  was  over  him.  to-night. 
Those  strange,  unclassifiable  faces  he  had  just  parted  from  were  the 
only  ones  he  had  been  unable  to  reduce  to  fraternity ;  and  even  his 
music,  while  it  touched  them  for  its  sentiments,  had  not  softened 
them  to  himself. 

He,  somehow,  felt  that  Katy's  si.mple  instrument  had  been  his 
talisman. 

Had  they  meant  to  rob  him  ?  Were  they  following  him  now 
with  that  intent  ?  Lloyd  stopped  to  listen,  and  on  the  disturbed  air 
came  the  sound  of  the  accordion,  and  a  womanly  voice  to  the  old 

tune: 

"  The  season's  in  for  partridges, 
Let's  take  our  guns  and  dogs  ; 
It  sha'n't  be  said  that  we're  afraid 
Of  quagmires  or  of  bogs, 

When  a  shooting  we  do  go,  do  go,  do  go, 
When  a  shooting  we  do  go." 

"  That  fellow  Cook's  too  simple  to  rob  anybody,"  thought  Lloyd. 
"  No,  they  must  have  been  honest  mountaineers,  too  inexperienced 
not  to  stare  at  me.  Besides,  they  all  prayed — all  but  one  or  two. 
Yet  old  Smith  was  working  on  the  Sabbath-day,  spite  of  his  re- 
ligion. I  reckon  he's  one  of  those  Seventh-Day  Baptists  I've  heard 
of,  farther  up  the  Antietam,  who  work  Sundays  and  worship  Satur- 
days. That  would  account  for  his  praying  more  devoutly  yester- 
day than  to-day.  Come  to  think  of  it,"  concluded  Lloyd,  "  the 
Seventh-Day  Baptists,  Luther  told  me,  did  not  believe  in  marriage. 
That  may  be  why  I  saw  no  women  on  the  farm.  I  would  trust 
Isaac  Smith  anywhere.  The  fact  is,  I  have  seen  so  many  queer 
things  in  the  last  twenty-four  hours  that  everything  looks  queer  to 
me.     Two  men  have  kissed  me,  and  I  have  had  my  fortune  told  ! " 

As  the  dog  came  up  with  its  insidious  attentions  now,  the 
singular  explicitness  of  Katy's  fortune,  and  the  vagueness  of  his 
own,  as  told  by  Hannah  Ritner,  occurred  to  his  mind.  How  could 
all  the  game  on  earth  rise  before  his  gun  .^ 

Not  unless  the  wilderness  was  restored  here. 

But  the  prediction  that  Katy  should  lose  a  ring  ? 

Whatever  that  meant,  it  had  for  a  moment — an  evil,  wicked 


KATY'S  ACCORDION-.  lOI 

moment,  which  he  dispelled  with  indignation  as  a  wanton  idea  tried 
to  enter  his  mind — been  verified  in  his  own  experience. 

Last  night  he  had  gone  to  bed  all  fluttered  and  fickle-hearted 
after  holding  Katy  in  his  arms. 

To-day  her  pure,  religious  nature  had  made  him  see  the  woman- 
hood latent  in  her,  and  aroused  a  manhood  higher  than  he  thought 
he  possessed. 

"  God  protect  her,  and  lay  me  dead  ere  I  can  do  her  harm ! " 
Lloyd  Quantrell  fervently  exclaimed,  looking  up  at  the  agitated 
wind  and  rain-clouds  which  seemed  seeking  to  overrun  heaven. 

The  dog  Albion  barked. 

It  seemed  to  him  strange  that  after  such  a  passionate  prayer  his 
mind  should  again  be  suddenly  possessed  by  worldly  and  selfish 
thoughts. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  suppressed  them,  but  only  to  be  attacked 
by  other  forebodings. 

Now  the  recollection  of  Hannah  Ritner's  last  prediction,  that  by 
taking  this  very  road  his  destiny  would  be  altered,  oppressed  his 
nerves. 

The  road  was  growing  worse  and  worse  as  it  wound  down  the 
plateau  through  the  hills. 

Sometimes  the  Elk  Ridge,  almost  transparent,  would  ride 
through  the  night  like  a  long,  cylindrical  billow,  and  seem  to  be 
rolling  toward  him  in  phosphoric  sparklings ;  and  then  he  would  go 
down  into  depths  like  midnight,  where  some  small  stream  could  be 
heard  hollow  and  distrustful,  accompanying  the  road  in  some  deep 
wash  or  gulf,  and  in  the  darkness  the  great  grape-vines  seemed  to 
exhale  a  chill  as  they  struggled  up  to  the  top  branches  of  the  bass- 
wood,  or  rank  and  giant  wild-cherry  trees. 

In  other  ravines  the  rocks  fairly  grew  across  the  way,  as  if 
planted  in  rows,  and  on  the  summits  the  gentle  but  melancholy 
locust-trees  shook  in  the  wind  which  the  angry  and  plunging  moon 
seemed  to  blow  from  its  lurid  bag. 

A  pale-faced  woman  would  peep  from  some  occasional  hut 
where  the  candle-light  revealed  her,  and  the  turkeys  roosting  in  the 
trees  would  cluck  together,  like  people  laughing  in  the  ague's  clutch  ; 
but  on  the  glimmering  wheat  stubble  at  the  clearings  the  moon  lay 
with  a  circling,  partial  light,  Hke  an  insatiate  sickle,  which  wanted 
next  year's  seedlings,  too,  before  their  birth,  or  Herod  searching  for 
the  scarce-bom  babes. 


I02  KATY  OF  CATOCTLV. 

Then  mighty  rocks  would  overhang  the  road,  so  big  that  they 
seemed  masses  of  foliage,  and  for  spaces  the  mullein-stalks  stood  up 
desolately,  and  no  more  bent  to  the  wind  than  aged  maidens  to  a 
smile. 

At  one  level  place  a  stream,  winding  through  a  kind  of  copse  of 
alder  and  brake,  came  out  of  the  thicket  tunefully,  and  spread  itself 
over  sandy  shallows,  and  compelled  some  soft  grass  to  receive  the 
subdued  light  twinkling  through  old  sycamores  which  kept  the 
clouds  off  with  their  speckled  arms.  Here,  amid  the  willows,  a 
little  log  school-house  stood  in  a  sort  of  fork  of  the  road,  and,  as 
Lloyd  rested  on  its  sill,  a  screech-owl  within,  like  the  last  school- 
master, raised  a  dreary,  quivering  wail. 

Repelled  with  superstition  from  the  spot,  Quantrell  proceeded 
on,  till  at  a  sum.mit  there  broke  upon  his  view  the  lights  of  a  town  in 
the  mountains. 

Even  this  sense  of  relief  was  accompanied  by  superstition,  since 
it  seemed  unnatural  to  find  a  town  so  high  in  the  air  as  this  mani- 
festly was,  and  right  in  his  road ;  but  as  he  proceeded  there  opened 
between  him  and  the  lights  a  deep,  black,  glistening  gulf  or  wilder- 
ness, which  he  soon  recognized,  by  white  riffles  or  dark  rocks,  and 
blacker  heights  hugging  it  round,  to  be  the  river  Potomac. 

Then  he  remembered  that  the  town  of  Harper's  Ferry  hung 
around  the  base  of  an  inhabited  height,  like  the  mountain  he  was 
descending,  and  that  the  town  or  suburb  on  the  height  was  called 
Bolivar. 

Hastening  down  a  frightfully  torn  road,  the  music  of  a  brook  at 
its  side  was  soon  drowned  in  the  roaring  of  the  river,  and  a  canal 
and  locks  were  on  the  river's  border,  barely  leaving  space  for  Lloyd's 
road  to  creep  beneath  the  mighty  Elk  Mountain  that  now  began 
to  tower  almost  perpendicularly,  and  become  a  buttress  to  the  Blue 
Ridge  which,  two  furlongs  in  advance,  stepped  across  the  fiver, 
leaving  a  ghastly  rift  between. 

The  dog  in  real  companionship  shrank  close  to  Quantrell  now, 
seeing  the  steeps  above,  amid  the  hurrying  clouds,  apparently  fall- 
ing down  to  close  the  chasm  and  bury  them  ;  while  the  wind, 
caught  in  this  funnel,  went  wildly  to  and  fro,  shaking  the  trees  in 
the  crevices  of  the  precipice,  and  rattling  down  roots  and  stones, 
and  the  river  raised  its  thousand  riffling  voices  as  if  birds  and  wolves 
in  flocks  dreaded  to  pass  this  storm-infested  gap. 

"  Poor  Albion  !  "  Lloyd  spoke  sympatheticall3^  "  no  wonder  the 


KATY'S  ACCORDION. 


103 


dog's  afraid !  This  place  by  moonlight  is  like  the  devil's  throne, 
but,  with  storm  threatening  it,  is  like  being  swallowed  by  a  sea-ser- 
pent." 

He  walked  fast  over  the  stony  road  till  the  great  mountain  was 
as  directly  over  him — stepping  from  Maryland  into  Virginia — as  if 
he  had  been  between  a  giant's  legs.  Here,  lying  low  to  the  water, 
a  covered  bridge,  almost  concealed  in  the  mountain  shadows,  re- 
ceived at  once  the  road  and  a  railroad,  which,  meeting  each  other 
beneath  the  toppling  mountain  thirteen  hundred  feet  above  them, 
ran  into  the  bridge  and  shivered  there  side  by  side. 

A  lock-house  was  near  the  bridge  and  a  bargeman's  tavern,  and, 
across  the  wide  flood,  a  thousand  feet  away,  the  railroad  lights  of 
red,  and  household  candles  of  Harper's  Ferr}',  shone  and  reflected 
in  the  water  like  jewels  in  an  elephant's  foot,  whose  great  head  and 
back  supported  the  higher  town. 

Quantrell  entered  the  solemn  bridge,  and  the  river  beneath  him 
seemed  to  sigh  like  the  hurrying  souls  of  all  the  Indian  tribes 
drowned  here,  even  in  the  whoop  of  war  and  chase. 

He  emerged  at  a  place  where  the  bridge  had  two  outlets,  like 
the  letter  Y,  a  railroad-track  in  each,  and  that  to  the  left  ended  near 
another  bridge  which  spanned  a  different  river,  not  visible  before, 
beneath  the  long  Virginia  mountain  and  the  town.  This  river,  the 
Shenandoah,  was  almost  as  fierce  and  wide  as  the  Potomac,  which 
it  assisted  to  break  through  the  mountain  gate. 

Lloyd  took  the  other  bridge  outlet  and  came  into  the  little  in- 
habited strand  or  sill  of  Harper's  Ferry,  which  lined  two  streets, 
one  along  either  river-bank.  The  bridge  was  the  key  to  the  town, 
like  a  key  to  a  trunk. 

In  the  eye  of  the  bridge  and  close  by  it  was  the  gate  of  some 
stately  institution,  all  noble  with  lines  of  lamps  and  walks  and  regu- 
lar buildings,  and  between  it  and  the  bridge  a  hotel  clung  to  the 
narrow  railroad  passage.  Opposite  this  hotel  was  a  detached  part 
of  the  beautiful  institution  beyond,  with  similar  walls  of  stone  and 
fence  panels  of  musket-barrels  or  spears. 

It  did  not  need  a  Marylander  to  tell  that  this  was  the  great  war- 
factory  of  the  American  Republic,  where  the  muskets  and  rifles 
which  equipped  its  little  army  had  been  made  since  the  rule  of 
President  Washington. 

The  stately  institution  beneath  the  Potomac  heights  was  the 
national  armory ;  the  detached  buildings  on  the  Shenandoah  side 


I04 


XATY  OF   CATOCTIAT. 


were  the  arsenal ;  the  two  rivers  meeting  at  the  spot  furnished  un- 
ceasing water-power. 

Leaving  his  gun  and  trappings  at  the  hotel,  Lloyd  was  directed 
to  a  saloon  where  a  stealthy  bar  was  open  Sundays.  It  was  a  little 
place  by  the  Shenandoah  side,  and,  when  he  entered,  it  was  quite  full 
of  men,  some  drinking,  some  drunk. 

"  Here's  one  of  tem  tam  apolitionists,  py  Jing ! "  cried  a  voice, 
and  a  man  came  up  to  Lloyd  sneeringly. 

"  You  here,  Andrew  Atzerodt !  "  exclaimed  Quantrell.  "  Spend- 
ing your  blood-money,  I  reckon." 

"  Tidn't  I  capture  tat  nigger,  Lloyd  ?  "  the  tipsy  fellow  inquired. 
"  Tey  want  to  take  teir  money  back,  pecause  tey  let  him  git 
away  !  " 

"  You  here,  Logan  ?  "  Lloyd  spoke  up,  seeing  the  two  slave- 
hunters,  also  sullen  with  disappointment  and  drink.  "  Then  your 
prey  escaped  you  !  " 

"  Why  not,"  answered  the  man,  "  when  this  Dutch  braggart 
stopped  everybody  in  the  road  to  proclaim  he  had  tuk  a  nigger } 
We  was  waylaid  and  beat." 

"  Not  me,  py  Jing  !  "  shouted  Atzerodt. 

"  No,"  said  a  Logan.  "  you  took  to  your  heels.  We  was  licked, 
but  we  fought  fur  our  nigger." 

"  Who  did  it.''  "  asked  Quantrell. 

"  That's  what  we'd  give  five- hundred  dollars  to  know." 

"  If  I  knew  I  wouldn't  tell  you,"  Lloyd  replied.  "  Such  fellows 
as  you,  without  any  interest  in  slavery,  do  its  dirty  work." 

"  Go  fur  him,  poys  ! "  screamed  Atzerodt,  getting  behind  the 
Logans.     "  He's  a  spy  and  a  nigger-lover." 

The  larger  Logan  came  up  to  Lloyd,  while  everybody  stopped 
drinking  at  the  bar  and  crowded  around,  hopeful  of  some  "  diffi- 
culty." His  brother  slipped  around  to  Quantrell's  side  with  a  treach- 
erous face. 

"  I  think  you're  the  man  who  wanted  to  take  that  slave,  Ashby, 
from  us  at  Smoketown,"  said  Logan.  "  You  wanted  to  fight  me 
there.     Take  that !  " 

"Take  that !"  exclaimed  the  brother. 

Both  struck  Quantrell  in  the  head  with  their  hard  fists. 

"  Take  this !  "  answered  Lloyd,  staggering  but  not  falling,  and 
without  raising  his  voice,  while  he  planted  a  blow  in  the  face  of  each 
mountaineer,  and  followed  them  up  with  the  rapidity  of  a  pugilist. 


ATA  TV'S  A CCORDION.  I05 

his  countenance  more  smiling  than  angry,  and  his  strength  pro- 
digious. 

"  Take  this  home  to  the  children,"  Lloyd  said  as  he  struck 
again.     "Take  it  carefully  !     Don't  drop  it  and  break  it !  " 

The  meaner  Logan  was  down  in  a  minute,  crying  anxiously, 
"  Lew,  he's  armed !  "  The  larger  Logan  fought  well  and  tried  to 
get  in  close  and  wrestle  with  Quantrell,  whose  skill  kept  him  off  and 
punished  him  terribly.  In  a  few  seconds  he,  too,  was  down  and 
crying  "  Enough  !  " 

The  landlord  had  meantime  drawn  a  long  revolver  pistol  from 
the  bar,  but  was  too  much  interested  in  the  fight  to  point  it,  and, 
before  he  could  determine  what  to  do,  Quantrell  twisted  it  out  of 
his  hand. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  man,  "  my  license  will  be  taken  away 
unless  you  all  hurry  out." 

"  Go  out !  "  spoke  Lloyd,  indicating  the  Logans,  the  pistol  in 
his  hand.  "  Put  that  bridge  between  you  and  Harper's  Ferry ! 
This  gun  may  kill  better  men." 

As  they  slipped  out  gratefully,  Quantrell  turned  to  the  landlord 
and  spoke  : 

"  Whoever  is  not  ashamed  to  drink  with  a  true  American,  is  my 
guest !  " 

Silently,  admiringly,  everybody  in  sight  came  to  the  bar.  As 
they  waited  for  the  champion  to  set  the  health,  he  deliberately 
raised  his  arms  and  shook  them,  wing-fashion,  and  crowed  like  a 
cock. 

"  Cock-Robin  cock  of  the  walk  to-night !  "  exclaimed  Quantrell 
merrily,  emptymg  his  glass. 

They  drank  with  even  more  quiet  awe,  for  they  recognized  in 
"  Cock-Robin  "  one  of  the  dreaded  Baltimore  anti-foreign  clubs. 

When  all  had  finished  drinking,  Andrew  Atzerodt  crawled  out 
from  behind  a  barrel  and  executed  a  crow  with  all  Lloyd's  non- 
chalance. 

"  Where's  my  drink,  Lloyd  ?  "  he  spoke,  loudly  ;  "  tidn't  we  tackle 
'em,  py  Jing !  " 

In  the  midst  of  the  roar  of  laughter  a  stranger  drew  Lloyd  away, 
saying : 

"  Come,  sir,  this  place  is  beneath  a  man  of  your  courage." 

Handing  the  pistol  back  to  the  owner,  Lloyd  walked  with  the 
stranger  to  the  hotel,  and,  giving  him  a  cigar,  drew  chairs  upon  the 


I06  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

railroad  platform  which  extended  on  high  trestles  between  the 
Potomac  and  the  armor>--yard.  The  tall  brick  edifices,  plots  of 
grass,  high  flag- staff,  and  chimneys,  reposed  among  the  lights  be- 
neath the  profile  of  the  upper  town,  where  a  great  rock,  like  an 
anvil,  overhung  the  Shenandoah,  and  the  fiery-edged  clouds  seemed 
hke  red-hot  horseshoes  shifted  upon  it  by  the  blacksmith  of  the 
Night. 

"  That  is  Jefferson's  Rock,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  in  reserved 
tones  ;  "  I  suppose  you  know  it." 

"  No,  my  friend." 

"  Mr,  Jefferson  wrote  his  '  Notes  on  Virginia  '  sitting  up  there. 
My  deceased  father,  who  was  a  strong  State-rights  man,  had  a 
tradition  that  some  day  a  child  would  come  and  push  that  rock 
over.  It  is  nearly  balanced,  you  see,  by  its  own  weight.  Then,  my 
father  said,  the  State-rights  of  Jefferson  would  be  no  more." 

"  Your  county  here  is  called  Jefferson,  I  think.''  " 

"Yes.  At  the  county-seat,  a  few  miles  south  of  this  place. 
General  Washington's  brother  Charles  settled,  and  his  descendant 
is  my  neighbor." 

"  Your  name,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  Beall— John  Beall." 

"  Why,  John,  that's  an  old  Maryland  name  around  Washington 
city." 

"Yes,  sir,"  the  young  man,  who  was  near  Quantrell's  own  age, 
answered,  with  a  subdued  voice,  like  one  naturally  reticent ;  "  I  am 
of  the  McGruders  and  Bealls,  Rob  Roy's  own  blood." 

Lloyd  Ouantrell  put  his  hand  on  John  Beall's  shoulder  affection- 
ately, and  could  almost  feel  the  young  man's  reserved  countenance 
smile  as  Lloyd  hummed  the  tune : 

"  '  But  doomed  and  devoted  by  vassal  and  lord, 
McGregor  has  still  both  his  heart  and  his  sword  : 
Then  courage,  courage,  courage,  Grigalach  ! 

"  '  Our  signal  for  fight,  which  from  monarchs  we  drew, 
Must  be  heard  but  by  night  in  our  vengeful  halloo  : 
Then  halloo,  halloo,  halloo,  Grigalach  ! '  " 

"You  sing  as  well  as  you  fight,  sir.  You  must  be  a  gentle- 
man." 

"Ah,"  said  Quantrell,  "that's  the  highest  degree  in  Masonry. 
I'm  afraid  not.     Lloyd  Quantrell  is  my  name,  however." 


KATY'S  ACCORDION. 


107 


"  I'll  take  you  for  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Quantrell.  My  grandfather 
was  an  Englishman ;  he  lived  most  of  his  life  in  Virginia.  He 
never  would  be  naturalized  here,  though  he  was  a  Federalist  and 
disliked  Mr.  Jefferson.  I  went  to  England  with  him  to  see  him  die 
there  in  his  old  Norman  homestead.  He  said  to  me  in  his  last  ill- 
ness, '  The  man  who  can  fight  without  hate  and  sing  without  invi- 
tation is  a  citizen  anywhere.'  " 

"  Well,  John,  I'll  answer  to  being  a  citizen,  then.  With  jc>za  I'll 
be  a  Virginian.     We  can  squeeze  a  small  drink  out  of  my  flask." 

"  Thank  you,"  Beall  answered,  accepting  the  Marylander's  hand, 
"  but  I  seldom  drink.  I  went  through  the  form  at  the  saloon  in 
compliment  to  your  prowess.  The  fact  is,  I'm  a  communicant  in 
our  Episcopal  Church.  A  large  family — my  widowed  mother's — 
depend  on  me.  I  came  here  to-night  for  a  poor  neighbor  who  ex- 
pected to  recover  her  slave.  She  is  a  preacher's  widow,  and  had  an 
old  negro  man.  His  son,  to  satisfy  the  old  man's  wife,  who  lived 
North,  came  down  and  stole  the  father.  The  son  himself  made  his 
escape  not  long  ago." 

"John,"  said  Quantrell,  "the  old  man  has  got  his  freedom.  He 
is  dead." 

"I'm  not  surprised  to  hear  it,"  said  Beall,  unmoved.  "He  was 
too  old  to  run  away.  But  I  considered  it  my  religious  duty  to  unite 
with  others  in  offering  a  reward  for  his  son  Ashby,  whose  bold 
deed  in  coming  into  a  slave  State  to  make  a  capture  shows  a  fright- 
ful demoralization  in  negroes." 

"  W' hat  is  he  worth,  John  .'*  " 

"  Probably  not  as  much  as  the  reward,  since  the  extension  of 
slavery  has  been  defeated  in  Kansas.  What  an  outrage  on  State- 
rights  was  that ! " 

With  a  warm  invitation  to  come  to  his  farm,  Mr.  Beall  mounted 
his  horse  in  the  street  below,  and  turned  him  up  the  hill  through 
the  middle  of  the  town. 

"  A  little  inflexible,"  Quantrell  reflected,  "  but  a  true-hearted 
Virginian  all  the  same." 

He  took  a  room  in  the  hotel,  where  only  a  very  tall  and  very 
black  negro,  probably  six  and  a  half  feet  high,  seemed  to  be  awake. 
The  railroad  agent,  also  a  powerful  man,  was  continually  bantering 
this  negro,  who  seemed  fully  as  independent. 

"Ain't  yo'  nigger,  noway,"  exclaimed  this  black  giant,  while 
looking  for  Lloyd's  key.      "Jess  call  myseff  yo'  nigger  fo'  con- 


I08  A'ATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

venience.  Want  a  better-lookin'  man  than  yo'  to  be  my  moss- 
ta!" 

"  So  ho,  now  !  so  ho  !  "  exclaimed  the  big  white  man,  sleepily 
holding  up  his  red  lamp.  "Ain't  you 'shamed,  Heywood  ?  I'm 
'shamed  faw  you.  Anybody  can  see  you're  no  Vurgeenian  by  your 
manners.     Talkin'  that  a-way  to  a  man  o'  my  age  !  " 

"  Dat's  what's  de  fack,"  said  Heywood  ;  "yo's  too  ole  to  be  my 
mossta.  Yo's  a  ole  widower.  Don't  you 'so  ho'  me:  I'm  a  free 
man,  I  am  !  Don't  go  nowhar  for  nobody  if  dey  don't  treat  me 
right." 

"  I'm  sorry  faw  you,  Heywood.  I  hope  your  wife  and  childem 
won't  hear  how  you  talk  to  me.  You  may  be  a  widowaw,  too,  Hey- 
wood." 

As  the  big  man  walked  up  the  platform  as  mechanically  as  he 
had  been  quarreling,  swinging  the  red  lamp,  the  gigantic  negro, 
paying  no  attention  to  Lloyd,  seized  a  cloak  and  darted  after  him. 

"  Yer,  squire,  yo'  ole  dunce !  Moss  Beckham,  you  put  on  dis 
yer  cloak.  Do  you  hyar?  Dat  cole  wind'U  fall  on  to  yo'  kidneys. 
Den  yo'll  be  'busin'  of  me  mo'." 

"  I  won't  have  it,  Heywood,"  Lloyd  heard  the  squire  say ; 
"  nobody  can  pet  me  aftaw  spilin'  of  my  feelin's.  So  ho,  now  !  go 
ho,  Heywood  ! " 

"Dar!"  exclaimed  the  negro,  "wrap  it  round  yo'  now  and  go  to 
bed.     Gi'  me  de  lamp.     You  sha'n't  stay  up  no  mo'  dis  night." 

Coming  back  with  the  lamp,  the  negro  selected  a  key  and  took 
Lloyd  to  an  upper  room  overlooking  the  town,  promising  to  call 
him  for  the  Baltimore  train. 

"  Does  the  squire  own  you,  Hey\vood  ?  "  asked  Lloyd. 

"  No.  De  prejudice  ag'inst  free  colored  men  is  so  big  heah,  dat 
I's  a  kine  of  ward  to  him,  to  keep  my  property  at  Winchester.  He's 
de  bes'  friend  I  got.  Ef  I  didn't  sass  him  a  little,  reckon  he 
wouldn't  like  me  !  " 

"  Here,"  said  Lloyd,  giving  the  negro  a  silver  piece,  "  try,  the 
next  time  he  tempts  you,  to  answer  the  squire  kindly.  We  can't 
tell  what  word  will  be  our  last,  Heywood,  with  them  we  love." 

"  Thank  you,  mossta.  Reckon  I  will  treat  de  squire  better. 
Why,  he'd  die  fur  me  !" 

As  the  sound  of  the  negro's  feet  ceased  in  the  bare  halls  and 
stairs,  Lloyd  drew  off  his  boots  and  sat  at  the  window,  tired  and 
bruised,  looking  sleepily  out  upon  the  great  Loudoun  Heights  and 


JA  YHA  WKERS.  IO9 

the  dark,  riffle-fleeced  Shenandoah,  and  the  mill-races  on  both  river- 
banks  carrying  strong  water-power  to  State  and  private  machinery. 
The  sky  was  cloudy  and  windy,  and  brazen  lights  contended  there 
with  inky  scud.  The  watchman  at  the  granite  gate-post  below 
locked  up  the  armory-yard,  and  Harper's  Ferry  expressed  no  sound 
but  the  hurrying,  moaning  rivers. 

"Nothing  has  happened  to-night  to  change  my  destiny,"  Lloyd 
remarked,  nodding.  "  1  got  away  with  the  two  Logan  brutes 
easily.  I  shall  see  my  father  at  breakfast,  and  tell  him,  boldly,  I  am 
in  love.  Will  he  oppose  me  }  No.  I  am  my  mother's  bequest  to 
him,  and  he  does  not  despise  beauty  and  virtue  because  they  are 
poor." 

A  low  whine  rang  through  the  room. 

"  Lie  down,  Albion  !  "  Lloyd  exclaimed.  "  I  shall  g^ve  you  to 
little  Katy  of  Catoctin.     God  bless  her  !  " 

He  fell  asleep,  the  high-bred  pointer  at  his  feet.  His  mother 
came  to  him  there  in  dreams,  and  seemed  to  say : 

"  Tired  boy,  sleep,  for  you  have  a  long  walk  before  you,  and  no 
shoes." 

He  did  not  know  how  long  he  had  been  sleeping  when  a  shock, 
as  if  the  Loudoun  Heights  had  fallen,  awoke  him.  A  splitting,  re- 
sounding, appalling  noise  thundered  through  the  black  village. 

"Has  a  powder-magazine  exploded .''"  asked  Lloyd,  gazing  out 
and  rubbing  his  eyes.  "  I  couldn't  have  dreamed  anything  as  real 
and  loud  as  that !  No,  I  see  what  it  is  now  by  yonder  dim  moon- 
rime  reflected  from  the  Virginia  mountain — a  part  of  Jefferson's  Rock 
has  fallen.  Some  infant  must  have  been  bom  here  to-night  and 
pushed  it  over." 


CHAPTER   Xn. 

JAYHAWKERS. 

His  watch  showed  that  it  was  about  eleven  o'clock. 

From  the  street  below  came  up  a  sound  of  loose,  creaking 
wheels  and  some  footsteps,  and  the  word — 

"  Halt !  " 

Lloyd  Quantrell  looked  down  from  his  window  in  the  close  yet 
damp  night,  and  his  sight  slowly  separated  the  objects  in  the  little 


no  KATY   OF  CATOCTiy. 

piece  of  street  which  has  ah-eady  been  called  the  key  of  Harper's 
Ferry,  and  which  led  from  the  bridge  to  the  armor}--gate  in  a  nearly 
straight  line. 

The  saloon  where  Quantrell  had  been  attacked,  a  little  building 
of  wood,  confronted  this  street  near  the  bridge,  and  was  probably 
four  hundred  feet  from  the  government  gate.  Between  saloon  and 
gate  some  small  private  offices  and  shops  clung  along  the  arsenal's 
wall,  and  the  railroad  tavern  was  a  basement  story  lower  on  the 
street  than  upon  the  railroad. 

Another  street,  at  right  angles,  ran  along  the  armory  gate  and 
yard,  at  the  corner  of  which  yard  it  sent  off  an  oblique  street,  and  a 
short  block  farther  on,  a  steep  street,  both  nearly  parallel  to  the  Po- 
tomac ;  while  the  first  street,  called  Shenandoah,  kept  along  between 
the  houses  and  cliffs  till,  at  a  far  distance,  it  ended  at  another  armory, 
indistinctly  seen  by  Lloyd,  and  called  the  Rifle-works. 

Thus  an  armory  closed  up  the  town  by  either  river,  except  for 
the  passage  of  the  two  railways,  and  only  the  second  or  steep  street 
led  over  the  rough  hill  of  Bolivar  into  the  great  upland  Valley  of  Vir- 
ginia. 

Before  the  armory  gate  some  things  were  moving  and  shining 
like  steel,  and  suppressed  voices  spoke  sententiously  there : 

"  Open  this  gate  !  " 

"  Who  is  it }  " 

"  Open  this  gate  !  " 

"  Where  is  the  key  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  dead  man  !  " 

"  Oh-h — mercy  !  " 

"  Make  any  noise,  and  you  are  a  dead  man  !  " 

With  this  strange  colloquy  there  seemed  to  be  a  jumping  up  on 
the  wall,  and  a  jumping  down  and  a  scuffle.    Then  came  the  words  : 

"  That  key,  or  you  are — " 

"  Oh,  don't !     I'm  the  pore  watchman  !  " 

"  Never  mind  him,"  spoke  another  voice,  firm  and  cool.  "  Bring 
the  crow-bar  and  the  big  hammer  !  " 

A  rattling,  twisting,  snapping  sound  followed,  and  the  word — 

"  March !  " 

The  wagon  creaked  again,  the  shining  things  in  the  streets  moved 
within  the  gate,  and  the  foliage  of  shade-trees  and  the  shadows  of 
the  armory  buildings  swallowed  up  the  episode. 

"  What  brutes  these  semi-military  officials  are  ! "  Quantrell  re- 


J  A  YHA  WKERS.  1 1 1 

fleeted.  "  Drunken  superintendents  and  privileged  political  clerks, 
no  doubt,  who  have  lost  their  keys,  and  will  conclude  a  Sunday's 
excursion  by  sleeping  in  '  Uncle  Sam's '  offices.  But  who  could  ex- 
pect anything  better  with  Wise  Governor  of  Virginia,  and  his  Dutch 
and  Irish  on  top  of  true  Americans  ?  " 

He  had  nearly  fallen  to  sleep  again  when  there  came  a  sober 
sound  from  the  open  gate  below : 

"  All's  well !  " 

A  voice  replied,  like  a  negro's  : 

"  All's  well !  " 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  muttered  Quantrell,  "for  I  thought  every- 
thing was  sick.  Why,  they're  coming  away  quick !  Found  the 
demijohn  empty,  I  reckon  !  " 

He  was  now  able  to  perceive  a  small  wagon  drawn  by  one  horse, 
and  it  seemed  to  be  nearly  full  of  men,  though  others  walked  by  its 
side.  They  passed  up  Shenandoah  Street,  and  seemed  to  divide  at 
the  second  corner  ;  and.  at  the  gate  below,  there  remained  two  other 
men  standing  still,  with  something  shining  in  their  hands. 

"Close  the  gate,"  said  a  voice  within,  "and  halt  everybody 
now !  " 

"Having  had  the  horse  stolen,"  Quantrell  mused,  sleepily,  "of 
course  they  lock  the  stable-door  now.  I  think  everybody  hates  the 
government." 

He  noted  the  sharp,  black  rim  of  Loudoun  Heights  again,  like  a 
ragged  shell  inclosing  the  oyster  of  the  town,  and  the  sighing,  whis- 
pering rivers.     As  he  dozed,  voices  in  the  still  street  seemed  to  say  : 

"  Who  goes  there  }  " 

"  Prisoner  !     From  the  bridge." 

"  Who  goes  there  ?  " 

"Prisoner!     From  the  rifle-works." 

"  All's  well !  " 

"All's  well!"' 

"  Now,"  considered  Quantrell,  "  these  official  parasites  are  con- 
cluding their  spree  by  arresting  all  the  sober  men  on  duty  !  When 
I  get  to  Baltimore  I'll  just  describe  in  the  'Clipper'  what  sort  of 
rule  Buchanan  and  Floyd  and  Wise  have  clapped  on  Old  Virginia, 
the  mother  of  our  Presidents.  Meanwhile,  I'll  lie  on  the  bed  and 
not  be  disturbed." 

He  slept  longer  this  time,  and  was  awakened  by  a  wheezing, 
grinding  noise  which  made  him  leap  to  his  feet  and  seize  his  gun 


112  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

and  hunter's  outfit  and  dash  down  the  stairs.  An  engine  and  pas- 
senger train,  pointed  for  Baltimore,  stood  at  the  station  adjoining 
the  tavern. 

"  You  scoundrel ! "  Lloyd  exclaimed  to  the  negro  porter,  "  why 
didn't  you  call  me  1  " 

"  Couldn't  hyar  from  de  train,"  answered  the  negro  ;  "  telegraph 
wires  all  down  somehow.     Whar's  dat  ar'  bridge  watchman  ?  " 

"  Where  is  anybody,  responsible  .''  "  Lloyd  exclaimed.  "  Every- 
thing seems  left  to  one  impudent  nigger." 

"  Don'  yo'  say  I  ain't  'sponsible,  now  ! "  the  porter  vociferated, 
shaking  his  lamp.  "  I  know  my  business  !  Squire  Beckham,  come 
out  hyar!     Nobody  can't  be  foun',  and  I'm  blamed  by  everybody." 

The  negro  continued  toward  the  bridge,  and  Lloyd  threw  his 
dog  into  the  smoking-caboose  and  climbed  upon  the  train,  which  in 
a  moment  proceeded  along  the  river-side,  and  the  engine  entered  the 
bridge.  He  was  settling  down  for  a  doze,  when  he  heard  clear  voices 
in  the  hollow  cavity  of  this  long  viaduct : 

"  Halt  there,  or  you  are  a  dead  man  ! " 

The  engine  had  suddenly  stopped,  and  continued  to  snore  and 
tremble  as  if  it  dreamed  all  this  indignity  to  the  United  States  mail. 

"  What  do  you  want .''  " 

"  Liberty.     And  we  mean  to  have  it !  " 

"  What  kind  of  liberty  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Like  yours  and  mine.     Go  back !  " 

The  train  started  back  with  a  jerk,  as  if  the  lever  had  been  pulled 
in  panic.  In  a  moment  two  or  three  persons  came  excitedly  through 
the  smoking-car,  from  the  engine,  running  and  ejaculating. 

"  What's  ahead  there  ?  "  Lloyd  cried. 

"  Robbers,  or  lunatics,  or  Indians.  Things  with  guns  anyhow  !  " 
one  of  the  railroad  men  replied,  hastening  on. 

Quantrell  jumped  into  the  aisle  and  ran  to  the  front  platform 
near  the  engine  and  looked  ahead. 

Three  men,  as  they  seemed  to  be,  lined  a  railing  in  the  bridge. 
Bright  metal  shone  in  their  hands.  The  light  was  afforded  by  a 
lantern  in  the  hands  of  a  big  colored  man  who  had  advanced  beyond 
the  engine  and  seemed  more  courageous  or  less  impressionable  than 
the  whites. 

"Halt!  halt!  halt!" 

In  rapid  succession  and  with  high  nervous  meaning  had  come 
these  words  from  the  obstruction  ahead. 


J  A  YHA  WKERS.  \  1 3 

"  Who's  you  ? "  hoarsely  replied  the  great  negro  Heyvvood, 
slightly  moving  back.     "  Who  you  a-haltin'  ?      Free  man,  I  am  !  " 

"  Halt !  halt !  " 

"  Sha'n't  halt  for  no  such  damned  rascals.     Free  man — " 

"Boom  !  " 

A  loud  report  rang  through  the  bridge,  which  made  Lloyd  turn 
and  look  at  his  own  gun,  to  see  if  it  had  not  been  accidentally  dis- 
charged. 

Before  he  could  look  from  the  platform  to  the  track  again,  a  hu- 
man CT)\  so  piteous,  so  long,  so  profound,  came  from  close  beside 
him,  that  it  rang  in  his  ears  for  years  after  this  night. 

It  was  the  cry  extorted  by  a  mortal  wound  in  the  first  violent 
incursion  into  the  house  of  life. 

The  negro,  still  clinging  to  his  lamp,  was  running  over  the  bridge- 
ties  in  such  terror  as  to  put  his  late  defiance  and  tardy  retirement 
to  the  blush.  The  train  was  also  backing  rapidly.  As  soon  as  the 
starlight  came  down  upon  the  platform  again,  Quantrell  leaped 
off. 

"  What  is  it.  Hey  wood  ?  "  he  called  to  the  negro,  whose  face  ex- 
pressed in  outlines  and  dim  eyeballs  an  agony  insupportable. 

"  Death  !  "  answered  the  negro,  staggering  on. 

"  There— there's  the  man  who  shot  him  !  "  exclaimed  the  con- 
ductor of  the  train,  indicating  an  agile  figure  which,  between  a  walk 
and  a  slide,  came  out  of  the  bridge  and  seemed  to  have  some  short 
weapon  in  the  blanket  he  was  wrapped  in.  As  this  figure  went 
rapidly  toward  the  armory-gate,  Lloyd  Quantrell  raised  his  gun  and 
fired  upon  it,  yet  with  the  want  of  aim  which  comes  from  an  uncer- 
tain conviction.  His  mind  was  dazed,  too,  by  a  suspicion  that  he 
had  seen  that  youthful  figure  before. 

The  moment  Lloyd  fired,  two  shots  from  the  armory-gate  re- 
plied to  his  own,  and  one  of  them  cut  a  strand  from  his  hair. 

"  At  last  I  "  Quantrell  spoke,  coolly,  "  I  have  seen  something  that 
came  very  near  changing  my  destiny — for  life  !  " 

He  put  the  railroad  building  and  hotel  between  him  and  the 
armory.  The  passengers  were  now  generally  alarmed,  and  were 
peeping  around  the  corner  of  the  thin  rim  of  buildings  between  the 
railroad  platform  and  the  armory-yard.  A  water-tank  for  the  loco- 
motives was  at  this  corner,  and  some  of  the  hotel  people  or  passen- 
gers were  exchanging  shots  from  this  cover  with  a  group  of  people 
who  stood  in  the  armory-yard  around  a  small  low  building  near  the 


IT4 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


gate.  These  people,  whatever  they  might  be,  were  distinctly  heard 
loading  their  guns. 

"  Come  away  from  that  corner  and  tank  ! "  Lloyd  exclaimed. 
"  Those  robbers  are  firing  rifle-balls  that  will  go  through  these  thin 
boards." 

'•  You  think  they  are  robbers  }  "  asked  a  very  straight,  clean- 
ribbed  man  with  a  thoughtful  but  not  at  all  excited  countenance, 
turnmg  on  Lloyd. 

"Of  course.  Foreigners,  I  reckon,  come  to  take  the  rest  of  our 
liberties.     They  can't  be  Indians,  so  they  must  be  robbers  !  " 

"  O  papa  !  robbers  ?  Isn't  it  romantic  !  Such  mountains,  too  ! 
Such  nature  !  Oh,  let  us  stay  here  all  night  and  see  what  they 
are." 

A  large,  enthusiastic,  handsome  girl  was  sitting  at  the  open 
window  of  a  passenger-coach.  She  looked  at  Lloyd  with  a  beaming 
countenance  and  a  certain  fine  energy  of  impulse. 

"  Surely  there  is  a  hotel  here,  sir,"  she  addressed  Lloyd.  "  Can 
we  not  witness  this  unexpected  tournament }  Oh,  it  is  so  advanta- 
geous to  be  a  man  and  see  everything  romantic  !  " 

"  Here  is  one  poor  man,  dear  miss,  who  will  hardly  agree  with 
you,"  Quantrell  replied.    "  Hear  the  railroad  porter's  dying  groans  !  " 

They  listened,  and  sighs  like  a  sick  child's  came  from  the  little 
station,  and  the  words  : 

"  O  Heywood  !  what  will  yo'  wife  say .''  A  exposin'  of  your- 
self, Heywood,  when  I  should  have  been  the  man !  It  'twan't  kyind 
of  you,  Heywood  !  It  'twan't  thoughtful !  What  kin  I  do  without 
you  ?  " 

"  Po'  friend,"  the  negro  said,  "look  aftaw  my  chillen.  Forgive 
me  for  my  sassy  tongue.  It's  got  me  in  this  trouble,  mossta.  Oh  ! 
kill  me — I'm  dyin'  and  I  can't  die  ! " 

"  There,  Light !  "  exclaimed  the  lithe,  quiet  man,  looking  at  the 
girl.  "  You  hear  the  real  tones  of  romance  ;  the  poor,  sick  notes  of 
glory.  It  is  the  poor,  helpless  people,  the  women  and  the  servants, 
who  suffer  for  romantic  ventures." 

"  Oh,  that  is  dreadful ! "  said  Miss  Light ;  "  I  supposed  they 
died  fighting  gloriously.  But,  senator — papa — may  they  not  be 
Indians  ?  We' have  seen  the  Indians  in  their  beautiful  eagles'  feath- 
ers prepare  for  war.  I  suppose  these  robbers,  as  this  gentleman  says, 
must  be  foreigners — Italians,  or  Spaniards,  or  Garibaldians— in 
beautiful  costumes ! " 


J  A  YHA  IVKERS.  1 1  5 

"Here  is  one,  perhaps,"  replied  the  senator;  "look  at  him, 
Li-ht !  " 

A  young  man  with  a  short  gun  in  his  hand,  a  rough,  slouching 
hat  on  his  head,  coarse  clothes,  and  a  belt  around  him  with  weapons 
in  it,  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  train  and  called  out,  in  a  some- 
what nasal  tone : 

"  Conductor,  bring  on  that  train  !  Our  commander  has  allowed 
you  to  cross  the  bridge  and  proceed." 

"That  a  robber?"  Miss  Light  remarked;  "  why,  he's  a  mere 
boy.     He  must  be  fooling  you." 

"That's  one  of  'em,"  spoke  the  conductor;  "I  know  that's 
one." 

"  Give  me  your  gun  !  "  exclaimed  the  aged  railroad  agent,  run- 
ning out  and  reaching  for  Lloyd's  fowling  piece ;  "  if  that's  one  of 
those  scoundrels,  I  want  his  life.  He's  killed  my  pore,  faithful  serv- 
ant I " 

The  young  man,  who  was  not  fully  revealed  in  the  imperfect 
light  of  the  train's  windows,  half  raised  his  piece  and  said  negligently 
but  frankly : 

"  Citizens  are  not  allowed  to  carr}'  guns  I  We  are  in  possession 
of  this  town,  and  mean  no  harm  to  peaceable  people.  Put  that  gun 
down  ! " 

Lloyd  got  on  the  train,  out  of  the  wa3^ 

"  My  friend,"  he  said  to  the  excited  railroad  agent,  "  I  have  shot 
my  last  load  off.     We  must  wait  for  daylight." 

"Who  are  you?  "  cried  the  conductor  again  ;  "we  can't  under- 
stand you.     What  is  your  purpose  in  this  town  ?  " 

"  We  want  Liberty,"  spoke  the  young  man,  "and  we  intend  to 
have  it ! " 

"  Oh,  beautiful !  "  exclaimed  the  senator's  daughter  at  the  win- 
dow. "  So  bold,  and  such  a  boy  !  If  he  only  had  some  beautiful 
clothes  ! " 

"  He'd  look  well  in  a  good  long  shroud  !  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  ex- 
claimed, grinding  his  teeth. 

"  I  won  t  move  my  train,"  called  the  conductor ;  "  one  of  the 
railroad's  servants  has  been  shot  on  that  bridge.  I  am  responsible 
for  the  lives  of  these  passengers,  and  I  am  afraid  to  cross  the 
bridge  before  daylight." 

The  young  man  retired  into"  the  shadows  of  night  like  an  appari- 
tion. 


ii6  KATY  OF  catoctin: 

The  pointer-clog  followed  and  indicated  him  with  its  instinct  for 
an  object  doomed. 

"  Will  you  oblige  me  with  your  father's  name  ?  "  Lloyd  asked 
the  communicative  young  lady. 

"  Oh !  with  pleasure.  Mr.  Edgar  Pittson.  We  are  just  going 
to  the  capital  for  the  first  time.  My  father  is  a  new  senator  from 
the  West.  I  have  never  seen  the  East.  If  it  continues  as  sublime 
and  romantic  as  this,  will  it  not  be  delightful  ?  Such  mountains ! 
Such  adventures  !    Are  they  always  occurring  like  this,  sir  }  " 

"Ever  since  I  have  been  in  these  mountains,"  replied  Lloyd,  be- 
tween excitement  and  amusement,  "  something  wonderful  has  been 
taking  place.  Perhaps  they  wanted  to  surprise  us,"  concluded 
Lloyd. 

The  people  on  the  train  and  the  platform  were  all  this  while  in 
the  greatest  agitation  and  wonder,  while  the  town  of  Harper's  Ferry 
was  in  absolute  sleep.  A  doctor,  whose  office  was  at  the  station, 
alone  had  been  aroused  by  the  shooting,  and  he  reported  that  the 
negro  was  dying.  The  ball,  entering  his  back,  had  passed  entirely 
through  the  body  near  the  heart. 

"Gentlemen,"  whispered  the  doctor  to  Senator  Pittson  and 
Quantrell,  "  what  can  this  midnight  rebellion  be  ?  We  who  live 
here  fear  it  is  a  bold  and  strong  attempt  to  rob  the  armory  of  the 
treasure-chest.  Mechanics  of  all  countries  live  here,  and  some  of 
them  may  be  very  desperate  characters." 

"  Beautiful ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Light  Pittson,  overhearing  the 
doctor ;  "  what  contrasts  and  heroes  exist  in  the  East !  Washing- 
ton city  must  be  full  of  such  revolutions.  How  else  could  it  be  our 
capital  ?  " 

"  Young  gentleman,"  said  the  senator  to  Lloyd,  "  I  have  been 
wondering  if  this  hneute  to-night  can  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
Kansas  troubles.  I  hope  not,  because  the  unjustifiable  attempts  to 
subjugate  Kansas  and  give  it  to  the  slave  system  have  entirely 
failed.  She  is  on  the  threshold  of  the  Union  as  a  free  State,  and  I 
hope  one  of  my  first  duties  at  Washington  will  be  to  vote  for  her 
admission.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  would  deprecate  any  such 
invasion  of  Virginia  as  some  of  our  free-State  bands  have  retaliated 
upon  Missouri." 

He  conversed  as  quietly  on  this  dread  subject  as  if  he  had  been 
in  his  Western  settlement. 

Lloyd  wondered,  and  remarked : 


J  A  YHA  WKERS.  \  \  y 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  to  lead  to  that  idea,  sir  ?  I  am  igno- 
rant of  the  Kansas  troubles.  The  slavery  question  is  a  bore  to  me. 
I  am  enlisted  in  the  Native  American  question." 

"  1  looked  at  that  young  man's  gun  just  now.  I  think  it  is 
a  Sharp's  rifle,  a  new  Philadelphia  carbine,  loading  at  the  breech. 
A  qaantity  of  those  rifles  disappeared  some  time  ago  from  one  of 
our  Western  States  and  have  not  been  found.  The  persons  re- 
sponsible for  them  fear  some  of  the  jayhawkers  have  got  them." 

"  Jayhawkers .''  Are  they  something  like  our  '  Blue  Jays  '  in  Bal- 
timore ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  senator,  smiling  ;  "  they  were  free-State  young 
men  who  got  a  taste  of  war  and  blood  when  the  armed  rufifians 
from  Missouri  and  the  South  invaded  Kansas,  and  they  could  not 
be  composed  to  peace  after  the  moral  victory  was  won.  They 
went  hunting  for  an  enemy.  They  felt  that  they  had  beaten  both 
slavery  and  the  United  States  Government  which  tried  to  foster  it 
in  Kansas.  Some  of  them  invaded  Missouri  and  took  slaves  out 
and  carried  them  to  Canada." 

"  Who  did  that.  Senator  Pittson  ?  "  asked  Lloyd,  with  a  flushed 
face. 

"  I  forget  whether  it  was  Montgomery  or  Brown.  I  rather 
think  it  was  Brown.  He  had  lost  a  son  or  two  when  the  Missouri- 
ans  invaded  Kansas.  He  won  quite  a  battle  out  there  at  Ossawatto- 
mie.  It  seemed  to  bring  out  a  latent  pugnacity  in  him,  entirely 
foreign  to  his  long  and  steady  life.  Perhaps  it  unsettled  a  somewhat 
intense  brain.  Oh,  my  young  friend !  war  is  very  close  to  human 
society  everywhere.  It  is  like  the  rats  in  the  sewers  of  towns; 
whole  armies  of  them  are  hidden  under  the  gentlest  homesteads. 
It  is  most  unwise  for  our  more  warlike  Southern  countrymen  to 
bring  the  argument  of  force  into  the  comparatively  tranquil  North ; 
for  the  war-rat  is  under  every  human  skin,  and  at  a  pin's  prick  it 
may  come  forth  in  eruption." 

They  were  walking  up  the  platform  as  they  spoke,  and  stopped 
to  see  the  silent  audacity  of  these  unknown  strangers,  who  guarded 
the  two  bridges,  sentineled  the  street-comers,  communicated  with 
each  other  patrol-fashion,  still  held  the  armory  gate  and  yard  and 
the  arsenal,  and  all  this  while  the  town  of  which  they  were  masters 
slept,  with  its  nearly  five  thousand  people,  in  the  funnel  of  the  black 
mountains,  like  dumb  animals  in  a  stall. 

"  This  is  indeed  wonderful,"  remarked  the  senator.    "  My  daugh- 


Il8  A'ATV   OF   CAT0C7UN. 

ter,  you  perceive,  has  read  romantic  novels  ;  but  what  is  taking  place 
here  is  a  little  more  curious  than  any  such  reading  of  mine.  These 
strangers  can  not  be  a  foreign  enemy.  Virginia  can  hardly  have 
seized  the  General  Government's  armory.  Mere  thieves  would  not 
take  such  chances,  for,  when  the  brawny  armorers  in  that  town 
awaken.  Death  will  keep  a  holiday  here  !  Do  you  know  what  I 
think  I  shall  do  }  " 

Lloyd  looked  at  him  a  moment  by  the  variable  lights  of  the 
environment,  and  saw  something  in  the  senator's  long,  fine,  quiet 
face,  which,  in  sympathy  with  Lloyd's  own  temperament,  educed 
the  reply  : 

"  Yes,  senator !  You  think  you  will  go  down  to  that  gate  with 
your  life  in  your  hand  and  ask  the  miscreants  there  for  an  explana- 
tion." 

The  young  senator — he  seemed  hardly  forty — looked  also  at 
Lloyd  with  mild-eyed  penetration. 

"  How  did  you  guess  that  ?  "  he  said.  "  But  you  were  right.  I 
am  a  fresh  senator,  without  record  or  much  ambition.  I  might  save 
life  by  interposing  here,  while  night  and  sleep  keep  this  thing  yet  a 
nightmare  dream.  I  can  say,  at  least,  I  am  a  senator  of  the  United 
States — " 

A  loud,  long,  heart-searching  wail  came  from  the  dying  negro's 
agony. 

"  Sir,  you  shall  not  go  to  that  gate  ! "  spoke  Quantrell.  "  Be- 
cause you  are  a  senator  you  shall  not  go.  Because,  also,  you  are  a 
father !  I  will  go  myself.  A  prophecy  is  already  on  my  head — that 
I  shall  see  that  to-night  which  will  change  my  destiny." 

"  Magnificent !  "  exclaimed  a  voice  at  his  elbow,  "  O  papa,  I 
could  not  stay  and  hear  that  poor  man.  So  I  have  been  fortunate 
to  hear  this  gentleman's  gallant  offering.     Isn't  he  a  hero  ?  " 

"  I  fear,  Light,  he  has  been  reading  Monsieur  Dumas  and  Mr, 
Ainsworth,  like  you,  when  he  speaks  of  a  prophecy  and  his  destiny." 

"  I  felt  there  was  something  like  myself  in  him — like  you,  too, 
papa — when  I  spoke  to  him  so  unconventionally.  Something  quiet 
and  unflinching.  Something  like  Robin  Hood  and  Fra  Diavolo. 
Who  does  he  resemble  that  we  know?  Of  course  he  shall  go  and 
demand  of  the  robbers,  '  What  ho  ! '  " 

Both  Quantrell  and  the  senator  had  to  laugh  heartily  at  the  un- 
affected enthusiasm  of  this  large,  somewhat  masculine-statured 
Western  girl,  who  might  have  been  eighteen,  but  was  cast  in  that 


J  A  YHA  WKERS.  \  \  g 

mold  between  the  handsome  and  the  noble  that  is  commonly  called 
"fine-looking-." 

"  Miss  Light,"  Lloyd  said,  joyously,  "  don't  try  to  make  an  im- 
pression on  me!  You  might  succeed,  and  that  would  be  wrong; 
for  I  have  only  this  day  engaged  myself  to  the  prettiest  maid  in 
these  mountains." 

"  Splendid  !  Romantic  !  A  hunter,  a  hero,  a  lover,  everjthing 
noble  in  one  ! — Oh,  he  must  go  and  challenge  these  robbers,  papa  !  " 

As  they  walked  along,  talking  and  speculating,  and  waiting  for 
an  opportunity,  or  for  some  decision,  on  the  subject  of  these  maraud- 
ers, the  sky  gradually  became  overspread  with  clouds  and  it  grew 
cold  and  chilling.  The  robbers  within  the  gates  had  built  a  fire  in 
the  small  square  building  there,  and  could  be  seen  stooping  before 
it,  or  counseling  together. 

"  Are  you  an  abolitionist  }  "  Lloyd  asked  Senator  Pittson. 

"No,  no  ;  I  am  a  Republican." 

"  A  Black  Republican  ?  "  asked  Quantrell,  suspiciously. 

"That's  a  mere  nickname.  The  few  abolitionists  also  call  us 
names,  because  we  will  not  assault  slavery  in  the  old  States,  or 
break  up  the  Union,  so  dear,  I  hope,  to  everybody.  The  Repub- 
licans merely  reassert  the  doctrine  of  nature  and  of  the  founders  of 
the  republic,  that  slavery  is  a  colonial  thing,  not  in  the  blood  and 
circulation  of  our  system,  and  therefore  not  to  be  allowed  in  the  ex- 
ternal, new  domain  of  the  country.  It  has  taken  the  noble  empire 
of  Texas,  by  colonizing  there,  and  using  American  patriotic  ambition 
to  acquiesce  in  the  evil.  It  shall  not  so  colonize  and  pervert  the 
noble  empire  of  the  Missouri.  With  pity  for  our  countrymen  tied 
up  in  old  slavery,  we  shall  not  pity  ourselves  if  we  give  it  our  North- 
ern heritage." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  sir,"  Quantrell  dubiously  remarked,  "  that  if 
slavery  is  so  bad  a  thing,  it  is  in  danger  from  your  people  every- 
where. Do  you  think  a  Northern  man  is  as  brave  as  a  Southern 
one  ?" 

"  Not  as  fierce,  but  I  think  as  brave.  Not  as  decided,  but  I 
think  more  persevering.  They  are  not  as  conscious  of  their  princi- 
ples as  your  friends  are,  because  theirs  are  older  and  apparently 
forgotten,  while  the  tremors  of  slavery  have  raised  new  and  glitter- 
ing doctrines  which  must  perish  if  liberty  is  to  live.  When  the 
great  power  of  Britain  was  exerted  to  suppress  the  young  American 
Republic,  the  only  people  they  never  overran  were  New  England 


I20  A'ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 

and  the  Alleghany  mountaineers.  King's  Mountain  echoed  to 
Bunker  Hill.  Since  that  day,  has  come  the  West,  the  new  power 
on  this  planet,  I  believe  !  " 

They  went  in  silence  to  watch  the  mysterious  people  again,  and 
Light  Pittson  cried  : 

"  Why,  look !  Papa,  they  are  carrying  spears.  See  how  they 
flash  against  that  firelight !  This  is  glorious  ! — When  are  you  going 
to  challenge  them,  sir  }  " 

"  This  is  a  good  time,"  Quantrell  replied ;  "  I  see  the  gate  has 
been  opened  to  admit  wagons  and  horses.  Please  keep  my  gun 
and  dog.  Senator  Pittson  !  " 

People  crowded  around  to  see  what  Quantrell,  who  had  become 
a  man  of  leadership  in  the  eyes  of  the  passengers,  meant  now 
to  do. 

"  I  don't  like  to  see  you  go  down  there  alone,"  the  senator  said. 
"  It  appears  too  much  like  going  vicariously  for  me,  who  suggested 
it." 

"  Let  me  tie  this  ribbon  to  your  jacket,  sir,"  Miss  Light  ex- 
claimed. "  I  took  it  from  my  neck.  Some  lady  always  crowned 
the  brave  knight." 

She  tied  the  blue  ribbon  upon  him  in  real  admiration. 

"  A  moment,"  called  Senator  Pittson,  as  Lloyd  started  down 
some  rickety  steps  from  the  platform.  "  If  anything  happens  to 
you,  who  is  to  receive  your  property  ?  " 

"My  father,  Abel  Quantrell,  in  Baltimore." 

"  And  you  are — " 

*'  Lloyd  Quantrell,  his  only  son." 

"  Stop  !  That  man  must  not  go. — I  command  you  not  to  do  my 
errand !  " 

The  placid  temperament  of  the  senator  was  all  lost  now.  He 
attempted  to  rush  after  Quantrell. 

"  Hold  that  man  !  He  has  a  family  upon  the  train.  If  he  fol- 
lows me  and  exposes  himself,  I  shall  lose  my  life  for  him,"  Quan- 
trell replied. 

The  train-hands  and  passengers  seized  the  senator  and  pressed 
him  back. 

Quantrell  kissed  his  hand  to  Miss  Light,  and  bounded  down  the 
steps. 

"  Oh,  what  a  gentleman  of  romance  !  "  she  spoke. 

"  He  z's  a  gentleman,"  said  Senator  Pittson  ;  "  I  had  heard  other- 


LLOYD'S  DESILXY  CHANGED.  121 

wise.     Dear  Light,"  he  turned  to  his  daughter,  "do  you  say  your 
prayers  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  papa." 

"  Pray  for  that  young  man  as  if  he  were  my  brother  !  " 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

LLOYD'S   DESTINY  CHANGED. 

The  armory-gate  was  open  wide,  and  a  carriage  drawn  by  two 
horses  had  already  passed  in,  and  four  horses,  pulling  a  large  farm- 
wagon,  had  stopped  in  the  gateway. 

"  Jump  out,  you  colored  men,  and  take  a  spear  apiece.  We're 
short  of  hands  for  a  spell  yet,  and  want  you  to  do  guard  duty.  Be 
lively !  " 

Certain  negro  men,  impelled  by  others  who  carried  guns, 
dropped  clumsily  out  of  the  wagon  and  almost  immediately  were 
seen  carrying  sharp  things  on  poles.  The  same  nasal,  military 
voice  continued  : 

"  Get  out  here,  colonel ! — You,  too,  old  man  !  Fetch  in  your 
son  !    All  report  yonder,  to  the  commander  !  " 

Lloyd  looked  at  the  man,  endeavoring  in  the  moving  crowd  to 
distinguish  him,  but,  before  he  could  be  satisfied,  the  same  voice 
exclaimed  at  Ouantrell's  ear  : 

"  What !     You  captured,  too,  minstrel  ?  " 

The  young  hunter  turned,  and,  recognizing  the  face,  he  spoke  in 
astonishment : 

"  Stevens  ?  " 

"  Anything  you  like.  Come  right  to  me  !  Don't  you  put  down 
your  hands,  or  I'll  tickle  your  heart !  " 

Stevens — the  same  he  had  drunk  with  at  the  spring-house,  it 
seemed — thrust  a  pistol  at  Lloyd  Quantrell's  body.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  his  earnestness,  and  Quantrell  walked  at  once  to  the 
pistol's  muzzle,  saying  there  * 

"  Then  you're  one  of  these  robbers  }  " 

"  Anything  you  like.  You're  my  prisoner.   Go  'lang  there,  now  !  " 

He  pointed  to  some  low  buildings,  and  the  gates  behind  him 
closed  with  a  jangling  sound.     In  the  same  direction  had  gone  the 


122  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

other  persons ;  and  Lloyd,  getting  the  instinct  of  obedience  from  his 
finely  strung  automatic  captor,  walked  promptly  up  to  the  front  of 
the  nearest  building. 

It  had  three  doors,  and  the  farther  door  opened  into  a  separate 
and  smaller  apartment,  which  contained  only  a  bench  and  a  stove, 
and  some  persons  huddling  by  the  fire. 

The  larger  room  was  nearly  square,  and  contained  two  engines 
to  suppress  fires — low  engines  on  wheels,  with  hand  levers  at  the 
sides  to  be  worked  by  double  rows  of  men — and  leather  hose  and  a 
hose-cart ;  and  also  axes  and  other  appurtenances  of  a  fire  company 
hung  up  under  the  open-beamed  roof.  The  floor  and  walls  were  of 
brick,  and  were  littered  with  arms,  fagots,  tools,  and  blankets,  has- 
tily distributed  there. 

Quantrell  walked  uninvited  into  the  engine-house  amid  blacks 
and  whites,  all  armed  and  standing  hstlessly  or  nervously  about, 
and  he  picked  up  the  fireman's  horn  : 

"  Put  her  right  in  now  !  "  shouted  Lloyd  ;  "  run  her  for  all  she's 
worth  !    Liberty's  the  bird  !  " 

*' That's  the  case  to-night,"  grimly  spoke  Stevens,  "but  you'll 
cut  no  more  loud  capers  like  that,  friend  Quantrell !  This  engine- 
room  is  for  the  troops,  white  and  black ;  you  must  go  into  the  watch- 
man's part  with  the  prisoners." 

Two  fagots  were  burning  in  black  men's  hands  in  the  engine- 
house. 

"  Hold  on  !  "  Lloyd  exclaimed  ;  "  what  are  these  things  ?  " 

The  negro  he  seized  the  fagot  from  gave  it  up  with  mouth  ajar, 
and  in  the  other  hand  held  awkwardly  a  spear — the  very  fisherman's 
gig,  as  the  burning  fagot  showed,  that  Quantrell  had  twice  seen  in 
the  Maryland  mountains. 

"  Ashby,"  he  said,  looking  up  at  the  negro's  face,  "  you  here,  and 
a  robber.? " 

"  I  spec  so,"  the  negro  hoarsely  urged  ;  "  dey  say  I'm  one  of  'em. 
I  don't  know." 

The  fagot  was  seen  to  be  splints  of  hard  and  soft  wood  bound 
together ;  the  fisherman's  gig  was  the  pattern  of  many  spears  seen 
in  black  men's  hands  or  leaning  against  the  wall  of  the  engine-house 
— bright,  glittering  spears,  too  small,  sharp,  and  narrow  for  display. 

"  Stevens,"  spoke  Lloyd,  "  what  does  this  mean  ?  Spears — 
slaves  ?    Are  you  arming  negroes  ?  " 

*•  Arming  everybody ! "  cried  Stevens,  with  a  cool  imprecation. 


LLOYD'S  DESTLNY  CHANGED. 


123 


"Slavery  is  war  and  everlasting  captivity.  We've  armed  the  under 
dog  in  the  fight.     The  boot  shall  be  upon  the  other  leg." 

The  blood  left  Quantrell's  lips  and  head,  to  hear  this  hard  avowal, 
which  seemed  to  the  Marylander  like  hollow  blasphemy,  unmeant 
and  merely  pretended. 

"You  will  need  an  army,  my  indomitable  friend,  to  carry  out 
that  idea." 

"  We  have  got  it,"  Stevens  exclaimed,  in  something  between 
mockery  and  rapture  ;  "  see  it  hurrying  yonder  in  the  spirit  realm — 
the  cloud-bannered  army  of  the  Lord  !  " 

As  he  raised  his  hand  toward  the  small,  wind-driven  clouds  troop- 
ing down  the  pallid  gulf  of  sky  between  the  black  banks  of  mount- 
ains, Stevens  seemed  in  a  species  of  ecstasy,  yet  cold,  like  fishes  dis- 
porting ;  and  the  weapons  belted  around  him — pistols  and  a  knife — 
shone  coldly  red  in  the  flare  of  the  fagots  which  burned,  alarmed 
and  drooping,  like  some  of  the  negro  robbers ;  yet  others  of  these 
negroes  had  the  appearance  of  boldness,  like  all  the  whites  in  the 
band,  and,  taking  in  the  scene  an  instant  as  carefully  as  his  stirred 
feelings  would  allow,  Ouantrell  observed  : 

"  Stevens,  if  you're  a  lunatic,  you're  a  good  one.  And  I  suppose 
'you  are  the  commander  of  these  people  }  " 

"  I  ?  "  Stevens  answered,  self-scornfully.  "  Why,  our  commander 
is  a  man  so  great,  I  am  not  fit  to  be  his  orderly  sergeant !  I  happen, 
through  want  of  better  recruits,  to  be  third  in  the  command,  but  I'm 
willing  to  be  the  last." 

"  Who  is  your  captain  ?  " 

"  Come,  you  shall  see  him  ;  for  he  is  talking  to  the  prisoners." 

As  they  stepped  out  of  the  cold  engine-room,  the  night  wind 
came  in  a  shriek  down  the  long,  grassy  comdor  between  the  great 
armories,  bringing  some  autumnal  leaves  from  the  regular  lines  of 
trees,  and,  in  the  softened  wind-wail  which  followed,  was  blended  a 
dog's  inquiring  howl. 

"  Albion  !  "  spoke  Lloyd,  as  his  dog  came  with  obsequious  glad- 
ness to  his  feet. 

The  narrow  watch-room  contained  men  standing  and  others 
sitting,  and  all  trying  to  get  some  warmth  from  the  stove,  for  the 
weather  was  unusually  keen  for  October  on  the  Potomac.  A  voice 
of  somewhat  nervous  tension,  and  of  metallic  sounding  in  that  brick- 
walled  corridor,  spoke  up  from  among  the  group : 

"  Your  name  will  be  a  help  to  me,  sir.     Are  you  his  grandson  ?  " 


24 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  Ah — great-grandson,  captain  ;  descended,  sah,  from  his  young- 
est brother,  Charles,  sah." 

The  person  standing  was  a  portly  man  who  seemed  endeavoring 
to  rally  his  spirits  into  some  complacency  as  he  spoke  these  sentences 
in  the  nearly  dark  place. 

"  Lewis  Washington,  great-grand-nephew  of  General  George 
Washington,"  repeated  the  voice  of  him  sitting,  which  thrilled 
through  Lloyd  Ouantrell  and  made  him  turn  pale. 

"  And  this  is  General  Washington's  sword,  captain,"  spoke  up 
a  prompt  little  voice.  "  I  had  the  tact,  captain,  to  make  him  show 
it  to  me  a  month  ago,  and  I  said, '  We  shall  want  that,  iox prestige  ! '  " 

"  And  don't  forget,  captain,  that  Frederick  the  Great  gave  it  to 
old  Washington,"  spoke  up  Stevens,  over  the  heads  of  those  stand- 
ing ;  "  he  said  it  was  from  the  oldest  general  in  Europe  to  the 
greatest  of  the  age.  IVe  think  another  great  man  can  wear  it 
again ! " 

"  No  flattery,  Stevens  !  "  exclaimed  the  metallic  voice,  low  among 
the  huddling  people. — "  Colonel  Washington,  I  will  exchange  you  as 
soon  as  it  is  daylight,  and  you  can  see  to  write  an  order,  for  any 
able-bodied  negro  whatever.  Your  great  ancestor's  sword  I  will 
fight  with  for  liberty  again.     Did  you  ever  hear  of  me  ?  " 

"  Ah,  no,  captain,  sah,"  the  voice  of  the  portly  man  answered, 
quite  subdued. 

"  Then,  sir,  you  are  not  as  familiar  as  General  Washington  with 
the  great  occurrences  of  your  times.  I  have  fought  for  American 
freedom  in  greater  battles  than  Lexington  and  Concord.  To-night 
I  have  come  to  make  Virginia  free,  and  travel  on  this  mountain-line 
as  far  as  God  will  let  me  march,  to  startle  slavery  in  the  vales.  I 
went  to  Kansas  by  the  trail  and  sowed  my  children's  blood  there, 
and  came  away  with  a  reward  offered  for  my  head.  I  shall  go  to 
Texas  by  the  pike,  or  make  my  head  a  premium  again.     I  am — " 

The  speaker  had  risen  and  come  forward,  and  a  way  had  been 
cleared  for  him. 

"  I  know  you  now,  old  fox  ! "  Lloyd  Quantrell  interposed,  stand- 
ing at  the  door  by  the  light  of  one  of  the  torches  held  by  an  armed 
negro — "you  are  Isaac  Smith!'" 

Ouantrell  had  already  identified  the  voice,  and  now  he  saw  the 
gnarled  and  bearded  visage  of  the  mountaineer  farmer  stand  in  the 
watch-house  door,  dressed  as  before,  except  in  two  particulars :  a 
great  gray  army  overcoat  with  a  cape  attached  dropped  from  his 


LLOYD'S  DESTLNY  CHANGED. 


125 


shoulders,  and  his  head  was  covered  with  a  heavy  cap  of  wild-ani- 
mal skin,  rimmed  with  shining  leather.  In  his  hand  was  an  un- 
cocked carbine.  He  looked  to  be  a  rustic  gunner  or  teamster  out, 
betimes,  for  game  or  work  before  the  break  of  day. 

"  I  was  Isaac  Smith  for  a  stratagem,"  the  old  man  replied. 
"  Now  I  am  John  Brown,  and  in  that  name  I  am  come  to  cleanse 
with  blood,  if  necessary,  the  crime  of  slavery  from  the  land." 

"  You,  Pop  Smith — crazy  Pop  Smith — are  you  Brown  of  Kan- 
sas }  " 

"  John  Brown  of  Black  Jack ;  Brown  of  Ossawattomie !  I  see 
you  have  more  intelligence,  Mr.  Quantrell,  than  Colonel  Washing- 
ton and  these  gentlemen." 

He  pronounced  the  "  John  "  long  and  nasal,  like  Jo-aw-en, 
dwelling  upon  it  in  that  Indian  guttural  which  abides  in  the  reso- 
nant nomenclature  of  the  land.  A  second  torch  held  by  a  negro 
revealed  his  Indian  figure  clearer. 

Between  his  old  army-cloak  skirts  a  belt  revealed  pistols,  and  a 
knife  in  its  sheath,  and  the  dress-sword  hilt  of  the  great  Frederick 
thrust  in  the  belt. 

"  There  he  stands,  Quantrell,"  Stevens  exclaimed,  "  lighted  up 
by  two  native  citizens  of  Virginia,  both  of  African  descent,  and  I 
think  you'll  never  forget  him." 

Quantrell  had  to  look,  for  fascination  and  fear,  and  the  plain, 
nearly  aged  figure  he  observed  by  the  directions,  was  illuminated  by 
the  torches  of  that  large  mulatto  man,  who  had  seized  his  gun  at 
the  mountain  farm,  and  the  sad-cast  countenance  cf  Ashby,  the 
fugitive. 

The  dog  Albion,  snarling  once  loudly  at  his  recent  chastiser,  and 
crouching  next  to  "  point  him  "  well,  as  if  at  some  curious  kind  of 
game,  finally  leaped  and  gamboled,  in  the  apparent  idea  that  a  gun- 
ning party  was  about  to  start  and  take  him  along. 

"  He  sees  doves,"  thought  Quantrell,  in  a  moment  of  horror, 
"and  doves  will  be  left  to  mourn  this  expedition." 

Quantrell  next  saw  at  his  elbow  the  small,  stooping  figure  of 
Cook. 

"Why,  Captain  Cook,"  Lloyd  exclaimed,  "are  you  a  prisoner, 
too  ?  " 

"  Ha !  that's  good  !  "  answered  the  childish  little  man.  "  Don't 
you  know  I'm  a  captain  in  the  provisional  government  ?  I  took  the 
slave  census  of  this  county  for  Captain  Brown.     I  spotted  all  the 


126  KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 

big  slaveholders,  Washington  and  Allstadt,  and  now  I'm  going  into 
Maryland  to  arrest  our  neighbor,  Mr.  Byrne." 

"  You  treacherous  spaniel !  "  Quantrell  exclaimed,  while  his  dog 
snapped  at  Cook's  legs.  "  To  think  I  let  you  play  on  Katy's  accor- 
dion ! " 

"  Take  care!  "  spoke  Cook,  cocking  his  gun.  "You  make  the 
mistake  they  made  in  Kansas  about  me — that  I'm  a  little  boy,  and 
not  a  shooter.  Sir,  my  brother-in-law  is  the  Democratic  Governor 
of  Indiana,  hating  abolitionists  like  poison.  But  I'm  a  jayhawker 
to  the  heart !  " 

"  What's  this  ?  "  exclaimed  a  harsher  voice,  "  prisoners  quarrel- 
ing with  our  officers  }     This  gunner-spy  here  ? — Go  in  there  !  " 

It  was  the  dark,  raven-haired  Kagi,  the  picture  of  a  bandit,  and 
he  and  Cook  menaced  Quantrell  with  their  short  rifles  and  urged 
him  toward  the  watchman's  chamber. 

"  Oliver !  Watson  !  Captain  Brown  I  "  Lloyd  called  in  the  excite- 
ment of  rage  even  more  than  fear,  "  are  these  cursed  abolitionists 
to  abuse  and  confine  me  ?  " 

"We're  all  abolitionists,  Mr.  Quantrell,"  spoke  Oliver  Brown,  at 
Quantrell's  side. 

"  We  glory  in  the  name,"  said  the  voice  of  Watson  Brown,  at 
the  other  side. 

"  Pop  Smith  !     Captain  Brown  !  " 

Lloyd  had  turned  to  the  old'  Kansas  chief,  who  was  giving  some 
directions  at  the  wagon-side. 

"  Mr.  Quantrell,"  observed  that  person,  severely,  looking  up,  "  I 
let  you  go  at  the  farm,  when  my  officers  wanted  to  take  your  life. 
You  were  instructed,  sir,  to  keep  off  the  streets.  The  first  thing  we 
hear  of  you  is  a  shot  from  your  fowling-piece  at  my  son  Watson, 
which  I  returned.  The  next  shot  I  fire  at  you  will  be  at  closer 
quarters,  sir  !  Then  you  walk  into  my  headquarters  and  blow  the 
fire-horn,  sir.  Let  me  have  no  more  of  your  rowdy  capers,  but  go 
in  there  among  the  prisoners  ! " 

As  John  Brown  spoke,  the  fagots  flashed  into  his  eyes,  and 
something  of  a  wild  beast  sparkled  there. 

Quantrell  turned  and  fled  into  the  narrow  part  of  the  engine- 
house. 

For  an  instant  the  fickle  torches  shone  upon  the  fresh,  un- 
tarnished spears  of  moving  negroes,  and  low,  firm,  military  com- 
mands were  heard  upon  the  night,  and  then  the  door  closed  and  all 


LLOYD'S  DESTINY  CHANGED. 


127 


was  dark  except  the  reddening  clay  of  the  little  stove  and  dark  sky 
coming  in  at  a  large  round  window  above  the  watch-house  door. 

He  heard  a  robber  sentry  pacing  on  the  ground  without,  and  the 
call  of  "  Halt !  "  or  "  Who  comes  there  ?  " 

Lloyd  leaned  against  the  door  in  actual  terror — not  merely  the 
fear  of  death,  but  the  mental  paralysis  following  these  startling  dis- 
coveries. 

Not  thirty-six  hours  had  passed  since  he  met  this  resolute 
bandit  on  the  mountains.     Now  he  realized  everything. 

The  strange  and  mystic  sermon  of  Isaac  Smith  on  the  mountain- 
top,  upon  war  and  military  strategy,  had  been  the  personal  cogita- 
tion of  John  Brown,  the  Border  murderer,  upon  the  campaign  he 
meant  next  day  to  begin  in  Virginia. 

The  fisherman's  "gig"  carried  in  the  mountains  by  Smith's 
sons  was  one  of  many  spears,  to  arm  negro  slaves,  who  would  be 
unfamiliar  with  more  complex  weapons. 

The  boast  of  Isaac  Smith,  that  he  owned  a  certain  number  of 
negroes,  meant  that  John  Brown  controlled  them  for  a  war  against 
their  masters. 

The  reflections  of  Smith  on  Broderick's  death  were  incitements  of 
John  Brown  to  his  sons  to  revenge  blood,  shed  by  pro-slavery  men. 

The  mountain  farm  of  Isaac  Smith  and  sons  was  the  rendezvous 
for  a  vast  recruitment  of  abolitionists  and  negroes  to  drop  upon 
Virginia  in  a  single  night  from  the  great  Northern  State  close  by, 
and  to  aid  John  Brown,  the  fanatical  bandit,  to  capture  the  tens  of 
thousands  of  stands  of  muskets  in  Harper's  Ferry,  and  arm  a 
mighty  insurrection ! 

Now  Quantrell  could  understand  the  suspicious  and  even  harsh 
treatment  of  himself  at  the  rude  mountain  farm,  his  examination  by 
Kagi  and  Stevens,  and  the  deadly  danger  he  had  been  in,  as  a  sup- 
posed spy,  entering  their  lair  in  the  very  instant  of  their  descent 
upon  a  peaceful  State. 

He  felt  with  agony  and  wonder  that  if  he  had  discarded,  before 
he  came  to  that  farm,  Katy  Bosler's  poor  little  accordion,  and  had 
brought  no  music  to  be  his  intercessor,  his  body  might  now  be 
lying  in  the  upland  thickets  for  the  mountain  crows  to  pick. 

This  dark  and  superstitious  Kagi  was,  no  doubt,  the  second  to 
Ossawattomie  Brown  in  command,  and  had  power  of  life  and  death 
over  Lloyd  and  every  innocent  prisoner. 

As  these  coincidences  and  emotions  rushed  together,  the  young 


128  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

man  felt  not  wholly  a  sense  of  despair,  but  of  mental  occupation 
too  great  and  oppressive  for  his  trifling  and  heedless  mind,  to 
which  all  his  youth  had  been  like  a  schoolboy's  truant  day,  spent 
amid  the  wild  haws  and  mountain  plums,  and  by  the  rivulets,  ston- 
ing the  birds.  In  a  day  and  a  night  he  had  come  to  the  great 
crises  of  love,  religious  conviction,  marriage  engagement,  fear  of 
death,  and  prophecy. 

Had  he  yet  seen  that  which  could  change  his  destiny  ? 

This  question  he  asked  himself  slowly,  and  the  sense  of  fear 
slowly  dissipated  from  his  clearing  and  cooling  brain. 

He  felt  again  as  he  had  in  the  saloon,  but  a  few  rods  distant, 
when  he  measured  physical  strength  and  address  with  the  *  soul-driv- 
ers '  and  slave-catchers  there,  and  at  every  blow  had  rejoiced  and 
delighted  in  the  perfect  clairvoyance  of  his  mind  ;  yet,  with  this  trans- 
ference of  purpose  and  returning  courage,  came  also  a  cold,  appetiz- 
ing instinct,  like  the  shark's,  for  human  prey,  and  he  almost  smiled 
out  of  his  late  excitement,  though  he  ground  his  teeth. 

"  If  I  ever  get  out  of  here,"  Lloyd  Ouantrell  muttered,  "  death, 
death  to  all  abolitionists  !  " 

He  felt  so  nonchalantly  that  he  had  found  somebody  to  distinctly 
hate,  that  he  softly,  musically,  forgetfully,  uttered  the  rooster's  crow 
of  victory,  as  in  the  saloon  when  he  smote  the  Logans  down. 

A  dog  barked  at  his  feet. 

"  Ha,  my  faithful  KVo\ow, you  here?  "  said  Lloyd  aloud,  stooping 
and  lifting  his  dog  in  his  arms.  "  Bark  again,  and  I  will  crow  again, 
and  they  shall  be  our  challenge  :  '  Death,  death  to  abolitionists  ! '  " 

The  dog  replied  right  earnestly.  The  young  man,  with  spirits 
fully  recovered,  crowed  clear  and  loud. 

In  a  minute  the  chanticleers  of  Harper's  Ferry  were  heard  re- 
sponding, showing  that  it  was  nearly  mom. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

LEXINGTON,  NOT   CONCORD. 

The  watch-house  was  about  twenty-four  feet  deep  and  half  as 
wide,  and  had  windows  on  all  sides  except  in  the  brick  partition, 
which  was  a  solid  wall,  and  which  left  the  engine-house  portion 


LEXINGTON,   NOT  CONCORD. 


[29 


nearly  square.  The  windows  in  this  structure  were  generally  of  an 
arched  form,  very  high  a^jove  the  ground,  being,  indeed,  segments 
of  the  brick  arches  which  composed  the  walls,  and  the  watch-house 
door  was  uniform  with  the  two  doors  in  the  engine-house  portion — 
a  broad  double  door  with  a  wicket  in  it. 

These  high  windows  showed  the  dark  sky,  and  from  the  room- 
corners  showed  the  blacker  mountain  shoulders  and  perhaps  some 
few  garrets  of  houses  up  the  cliff.  In  one  of  these  garrets  a  candle 
burned,  and  Lloyd  wondered  if  there  the  infant  was  not  being  born 
whose  baby  hand  had  pushed  down  Jefferson's  Rock  and  fulfilled  the 
prophecy. 

His  mind  reverted  to  the  Dunker  love-feast  and  that  other  babe 
which  had  been  born  in  a  stable  like  this ;  for  the  watch-house  might 
have  originally  been  the  stall  of  horses  to  pull  the  fire-engine. 
Across  the  way  was  the  inn  of  Nativity,  perhaps,  with  travel- 
ers delayed,  going  up  to  their  capital.  "  And  here,"  concluded 
Quantrell,  "  may  be  Herod's  soldiery  seeking  the  young  child's 
life." 

A  quiet  awe  fell  upon  him  like  the  cold  water  of  the  Dunker 
baptism  chilling  the  convert.  He  thought  of  Katy's  prayer  for  his 
soul,  and  her  solemn  words  inclined  him  to  devotion  now : 

"  God  gif  me  this  soul,  and  let  it  drink  thy  precious  blood  ! " 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  eyes  and  repeated  the  first  prayer  he  had 
ever  made  with  deep  sincerity,  though  the  words  had  been  his  task 
at  school : 

"  Parce  nobis,  'Jesu  !  Libera  nos  a  malo  !  " 

In  asking  mercy  and  deliverance  from  evil,  he  bowed  his  head 
and  added,  "  God  bless  Katy  ! " 

The  dog  began  to  scratch  the  door  and  to  whine. 

Quantrell  touched  something  at  his  button-hole— the  ribbon  of 
Miss  Light  Pittson. 

At  once  the  phantom  of  Katy  Bosler  seemed  to  disappear,  and 
the  ardent  and  noble  youth  of  the  lady  whose  admiration  he  had  so 
candidly  received,  awoke  a  more  worldly  flutter  in  his  breast. 

"Something  makes  me  want  to  see  that  fine  girl  once  more," 
Quantrell  thought ;  "  she  called  me  her  knight.  Her  father  is  a  sen- 
ator ! " 

The  pointer-dog  leaped  upon  him  fondly  and  touched  his  cold 
muzzle  to  Lloyd's  face. 

"  If  I  had  not  seen  Katy  first,  Albion,"  mused  Lloyd,  "  I  should 


130 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


have  fallen  in  love  with  Light.  But  the  light  in  Katy's  eyes  out- 
shines hers." 

He  turned  and  walked  back  into  the  cell  or  corridor. 

Talking  in  low^  tones  together  were  several  prisoners,  awed  and 
suspicious,  and  they  looked  up  at  Quantrell  by  the  stove's  poor 
light,  and  some  greeted  him  with  a  thin  laugh  and  others  ceased  to 
speak. 

"  Captain,  ah  ! — sah  !  "  spoke  a  portly  man  whom  Lloyd  guessed 
to  be  Colonel  Washington,  and  who  had  begun  his  sentence  with 
courtly  intentions,  but  judged  it  best  to  round  up  without  saying 
anything. 

"I'm  not  one  of  the  captains,"  Lloyd  answered;  "my  uncle 
Quantrell  keeps  a  slave-pen  at  Baltimore,  and  I  guess  that  ought  to 
be  guarantee  for  me,  with  you  men,  at  least." 

"  Ah  !  yes — sah  !  "  said  the  colonel,  but  hardly  more  considerate, 
as  if  his  suspicions  had  been  satisfied  but  not  his  scruples. 

"  What's  youm  ?  "  asked  an  old  man  who  had  been  sitting,  and 
who  started  up  and  looked  at  Lloyd  unsteadily.  "  Bitters  }  Gin, 
did  you  say  }  Tansy  }     Fi'penny  bit — fi'penny  bit." 

"  Watty  !  Watty  !  "  interposed  another  man  of  age,  but  less  in- 
firm, "  you're  not  tending  bar  this  morning.  You're  tuk,  Watty  ! 
— He's  a  little  off  his  Aniericanus,  sir ;  I  mean  he's  not  just  right  in 
his  head,  since  he's  been  tuk." 

"  Fi'penny  bit !  Come  ag'in  ! "  muttered  the  old  bar-keeper,  set- 
tling to  his  bench. 

"  And  what  are  you,  my  friend .?  "  Quantrell  asked  of  the  third 
person. 

"  Me  }  Oh,  I'm  the  armory  bell-ringer,  I've  rung  that  bell  thirty- 
five  year.  I  never  missed  but  of  a  Sunday  and  a  holiday.  Dear 
me !  ef  Cap'n  Brown  don't  let  me  go  ring  it  at  six  o'clock,  I'll  go  off 
of  my  Americantis.     What  '11  old  Ball  say  }  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  what  will  old  Ball  say  }  "  cried  half  a  dozen  voices. 
"  Old  Ball  '11  come  and  git  tuk." 

"  Ah  !  yes— sah  !  "  coincided  Colonel  Washington,  not  yet  set- 
tled that  he  ought  to  say  something.  In  the  pause,  after  waiting 
for  him,  the  bar-keeper  mumbled  : 

"  Medford,  Jamaikey,  or  Santycroo  ?  He-he  !  All  same  bottle, 
gen'lemen.     Fi'penny  bit — fi'penny  bit !     Come  ag'in." 

"  Watty  has  to  git  up  fur  the  airly  trade  at  the  bar,"  explained 
the  bell-ringer.     "  You  see  they'll  all  git  tuk~them  airly  birds — this 


LEXINGTON,   NOT  CONCORD. 


131 


mornin' :  fur  they'll  come  to  git  their  drams,  an'  Cap'n  Brown  '11  git 
'em  all." 

"  An'  git  ole  Ball,  too — ha !  ha  !  "  shouted  the  great  body  of  the 
prisoners. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  spoke  the  bell-ringer,  again  absently,  "  ef  I  can't 
ring  the  bell  at  the  minute,  may  be  I'll  git  discharged.  That  would 
set  me  clar  off  of  my  Amert'canus." 

The  door  opened,  and  three  more  prisoners  were  brought  in,  fol- 
lowed by  three  of  the  Kansas  party,  whom  Lloyd  identified  to  be 
Kagi,  young  Ned  Coppock,  from  Iowa,  and  Newby,  the  handsome 
mulatto  man  who  had  been  rude  to  Quantrell. 

"  Cold  night  for  October,"  Kagi  said. 

"  Colder  morning  for  you  !  "  Quantrell  spoke  up,  with  deep  mean- 
ing and  dislike. 

"  Blathering  yet,  are  you  7  "  Kagi  replied,  his  cocked  gun  across 
his  lap,  leaning  to  the  stove. 

"  That  worm  is  crawling  toward  you,"  Quantrell  said,  remember- 
ing the  man's  pallor  and  superstition. 

Kagi  showed  the  same  ghastly  skin  for  a  minute  amid  his 
long,  dead  hair,  and  then  spoke  in  a  tone  of  enforced  quiet : 

"  Then  that  star  is  drawing  near  me." 

He  looked  at  Lloyd  with  a  determination  in  which  high  fanati- 
cism was  blent,  and  without  further  anger. 

"  No  quarrelin'  in  the  bar,  gen'lemen,"  old  Watty,  the  bar-keeper, 
started  up ;  "  drink  with  the  house !  Whisky  .-*  Ahalt's  or  Hor- 
sey's  ?     Lemon-peel .''     Fi'penny  bit — fi'penny  bit !    Come  ag'in." 

"  There,  now,  see  what  you'll  come  to  !  "  Kagi  observed,  look- 
ing straight  at  Quantrell  and  indicating  old  Watty  with  his  head. 
"  Whisky  will  fetch  you  there.  Slavery  and  whisky  are  distilled 
out  of  each  other." 

"Did  you  ever  drink  whisky.?  "  asked  Lloyd. 

"  No." 

"  Did  you  ever  have  a  slave  ?  " 

"I'm  not  that  kind  of  a  serpent." 

"  That's  just  what  I  supposed,"  said  Lloyd  ;  "  you're  an  ignorant 
fanatic." 

"  Ah,  sah — sah !  "  put  in  Colonel  Washington,  a  little  apprehen- 
sive of  a  murder,  and  about  to  say  something,  but  reconsidering  it. 

"  Washington,"  spoke  Kagi,  "if  you  was  worthy  of  the  only  ce- 
lebrity in  your  family,  you  would  have  them  pistols  of  Lafayette  and 


132 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


the  sword  of  the  King  of  Prooshey,  and  be  leading  this  expedeetion, 
instead  of  throwing  it  on  to  an  old  saint,  like  Captain  Brown.  Free- 
dom might  build  you  up,  as  slavery  has  about  buried  you  !  " 

"  Ah,  sah  ! "  Colonel  Washington  exclaimed,  with  an  instant's 
asperity,  and  then  after  a  pause  concluded  with  great  docility — "  in- 
deed, sah,  captain !  " 

"  Solgers,"  spoke  up  the  bell-ringer,  "  what  '11  ole  Ball  do  to  me  ? 
what  '11  the  sup'rintindon  do?  I  must  ring  that  bell,  or  I'll  go  off  of 
my  Aniericanus  clar." 

"  Not  this  momin' ! "  spoke  up  the  bright-faced,  negligently- 
dressed  Coppock.  "  You  and  us  and  all  can  ring  it,  when  slavery  is 
over.     Then,  I  calkelate,  it'll  be  glad  enough  to  ring  itself." 

"  He-he  !  "  chuckled  a  prisoner, "  ole  Ball— when  he's  tuk,  what  '11 
he  say  .'* " 

A  low  laugh,  somewhat  suppressed  by  awe,  went  around  the 
humbler  set  of  prisoners,  and  old  Watty,  who  had  been  dozing, 
started  up,  saying: 

*'  What's  yourn  ?  I'm  gwyn  to  close  the  bar  and  git  some  sleep. 
Hollin  ?  Ole  Tom?  Peppermint?  Be  quick  !  Fi'penny  bit— fi'penny 
bit ! " 

"Ned,"  said  Ouantrell,  familiarly,  to  young  Coppock.  "you're 
not  a  bad-looking  fellow.  Don't  you  know  you'll  be  hanged  for  this 
freak  to-night  ?     What  got  you  into  it  ?  " 

"  Common  sense,  I  calkelate ! "  Coppock  answered,  amiably. 
"  If  I  saw  you  working  and  spending  the  sweat  of  your  brow  for  a 
man  who  stood  over  you  with  a  whip  and  didn't  pay  you  wages, 
wouldn't  it  be  my  duty  to  interfere  ?  Wouldn't  you  interfere  for  me, 
oppressed  like  that  ?     I  think  you  would." 

*'  Not  for  a  nigger,"  answered  Lloyd  Quantrell. 

"  I  didn't  see  no  exceptions  made  against  negroes  in  my  Bible," 
Coppock  spoke,  unexcitedly.  "  Nor  in  my  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence, neither !  Captain  Brown — he  was  ready  to  throw  his  life  in. 
So  I  throwed  in  mine  ! " 

Coppock  tightened  his  belt,  full  of  arms,  which  he  had  loosened 
while  warming,  looked  at  the  breech-loading  of  his  gun,  and  started 
up. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  being  heah  ?  " 

The  voice  was  that  of  the  fine-looking  but  fierce  mulatto  man, 
and  he  was  looking  right  at  Quantrell,  who  replied  with  indignation : 

"  I  think  you  will  stay  here,  when  you  get  your  deserts." 


LEXINGTON,   NOT  CONCORD. 


^11 


"  Thank  you,"  said  the  man,  armed  like  a  Turk,  with  pistols,  dirk, 
and  small,  cunning  rifle.  "  I  know  you  mean  I  ought  to  die  heah  ; 
but  you  never  told  as  much  truth  in  yo'  life.  Heah,  in  the  county 
of  Jefferson,  I  was  born.  So  was  Mr.  Kagi's  folks.  The  paymas- 
ter's clerk  of  this  armory  is  in  the  family  that  owned  me.  I  run 
away  to  be  a  free  man  !  I  left  behmd  me  a  wife  I  love  as  much  as 
you  kin  love  yo'  sweetheart,  God  knows  that !  She's  had  nine 
childern." 

He  stopped,  still  fierce,  but  trembling  at  the  throat,  as  if  agony 
was  close  behind  his  audacity. 

"  Don't  cry,  now,"  Lloyd  said  ;  "  I  can  feel  for  you." 

"  I  can't  cry,"  spoke  the  man,  with  a  proud  intensity.  "  I  come 
heah  to  fight,  not  to  cry.  These  rocks  around  Harper's  Ferry,  I's 
seen  so  many  years,  is  full  of  crows.  Not  a  black  crow  that  makes 
his  nest  in  them  rocks  won't  fight  for  his  young  against  the  eagles 
that  tries  to  eat  them.  Do  you  think  I  could  stay  yonder  in  Ohio 
when  my  little  childern  called  me  heah,  and  Captain  Brown  called 
me,  too  ?     I  had  to  be  a  man  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  exclaimed  Watty,  the  bar-keeper,  starting  up,  "  I 
reckon  I'll  sell  a  nigger  a  drink  !  Brandy.?  (good  enough  for  you  !) 
Tansy.?     Fi'penny  bit — fi'penny  bit." 

"  Where  is  your  wife  now  ?  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  inquired,  interested, 
notwithstanding  his  repulsion. 

Newby,  the  mulatto,  hesitated,  and  a  furious  scowl  came  upon 
his  brow. 

"  It's  not  my  shame,  nor  hers,"  he  continued  ;  "  it's  the  shame  of 
this  infamous  slavery  !  She's  got  another  family  of  childern  by  her 
master's  son,  and  his  and  mine  will  both  be  slaves,  unless  I  make 
them  free." 

Unable  longer  to  suppress  his  sensibilities  and  excitement,  the 
spirited  mulatto  arose  and  disappeared  into  the  night. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that.  Colonel  Washington  ?  "  asked  Kagi, 
turning  his  strong,  almost  gloomy  countenance  upon  the  chief  pris- 
oner. "  Is  that  man  merely  an  intruder  in  the  land  of  his  birth  ?  Or 
has  he  here  rights  strengthened  by  wrongs— injuries  which  would 
make  you  die  for  shame,  or  fight  for  shame  ?  " 

"Captain,  never  did  I  hea'  such  rebellious  and  unconstitutional 
opinions  advanced,  sah — ah,  sah  !  " 

The  legatee  of  the  Father  of  his  Country  had  reconsidered  his 
reply  before  he  made  it. 


34 


JsTATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


Kagi  also  departed,  and  Quantrell  asked  Colonel  Washington 
what  he  expected  Smith,  or  Brown,  would  do  with  his  prisoners. 

"  Sah,"  answered  the  colonel,  with  a  deep  outburst  of  feeling, 
"  they'll  sacrifice  us  all !  Men  with  no  respect,  sah,  for  the  Constitu- 
tion, sah,  can  have  no  respect  for  human  Hfe  or  the  ten  command- 
ments— ah,  sah  !  " 

The  colonel  was  cut  short  by  the  entrance  of  William  Thomp- 
son, the  chief  outlaw's  connection. 

"  Mr.  Quantrell,"  said  this  young  man,  "  there's  a  lady  on  the 
train  our  chief  has  stopped,  who  wants  to  know  why  the  cars  can't 
proceed.     Her  father  has  took  sick." 

"  Light  Pittson  !  "  exclaimed  the  prisoner ;  "  she  asked  me  to  do 
her  a  service.  WiUiam,  you  must  get  me  permission  to  go.  It  is  a 
woman,  dear  to  me  already." 

"  Some  of  our  superior  officers  will  have  to  give  you  leave,  Mr. 
Quantrell.     I'm  only  a  lieutenant." 

"  Go  see  Captain  Brown  for  me,  or  Captain  Stevens  !  You  may 
want  me,  William  Thompson,  when  you  will  have  no  other  friend 
in  the  world.     Do  this,  and  then  I  will  hear  your  call !  " 

"  I  should  like  to  do  anything  right,  sir.  But  here  is  Captam 
Stevens." 

Stevens  entered,  and  Quantrell  addressed  him  with  insinuating 
heartiness : 

"  Cap,  why  do  you  keep  that  -train,  full  of  innocent  passengers, 
standing  frightened  and  tired  all  night }  It's  got  the  mail.  You 
might  as  well  be  robbing  the  mail  as  to  be  alarming  all  those 
females.     The  Government  and  the  women  will  both  resent  it." 

"It's  not  my  idee,"  said  Stevens,  shaking  his  head.  "  It  wa'n't 
in  the  plan  of  our  campaign,  neither.  But  here's  the  commander- 
in-chief  ! " 

Isaac  Smith,  as  Lloyd  still  named  him,  came  in  and  looked 
around  calmly,  like  one  settled  in  mind  by  warlike  responsibility. 

"What  are  you  debating,  Stevens,  with  the  prisoners.^"  he 
asked. 

"  There  are  passengers  out  yonder  at  the  station,"  young  Thomp- 
son spoke,  "  who  have  sent  me  here  to  speak  to  Mr.  Quantrell  and 
get  them  permission  to  proceed  to  their  destination.  They  are 
hungry  and  some  are  sick.  I  don't  see,  father,  why  you  keep  them 
there.     They'll  only  join  against  us." 

"Hasn't  that  train  proceeded  .>"  the  wiry,  bearded  bandit  ex- 


LEXINGTON,   NOT   CONCORD. 


135 


claimed ;  "  I  have  been  inspecting  the  posts,  and  supposed  it  had 
gone  on.     Who  stopped  it  ?  " 

"  Watson  Brown  and  Stuart  Taylor.  You  told  them  to  let 
nothing  cross  the  bridge." 

"It  was  my  oversight  and  their  mistake,"  the  leader  said,  with 
a  serious  look.  "  All  military  orders  ought  to  be  obeyed,  but  with 
intelligence.     I  have  been  made  to  antagonize  the  Government." 

"And  to  murder  a  railroad  hand — a  black  man,  too — I  have 
seen  him  dying.  Pop  Smith,"  Ouantrell  spoke,  clear  and  indignant. 
"  You  can  not  lose  a  moment  in  repairing  a  part  of  your  offense. 
Senator  Pittson  is  on  that  train  with  his  family.  He  told  me  he  sus- 
pected you  to  be  the  unknown  marauder  here.  His  daughter  has 
sent  for  me  to  come  to  their  relief.     We'll  go,  old  man,  together ! " 

Concluding  kindly,  as  he  had  commenced  sternly,  Quantrell's 
suggestion  was  accompanied  by  a  stride  forward  and  a  hand  upon 
the  old  leader's  arm.  They  walked  into  the  night,  and  Brown  or 
Smith  went  up  to  his  guards  and  spoke  : 

"  Hazlett,  Lehman,  go  find  the  conductor  of  that  train — one  of 
you  ;  the  other  go  order  my  son  upon  the  bridge  to  let  the  train  go 
safely  past.  I  will  myself  guard  it  across  the  river. — Bring  your 
light  here,  my  man  !  " 

The  negro  Ashby,  a  little  more  at  ease,  came  forward  with  the 
torch,  and  it  shone  upon  a  raw-boned,  tall  young  man,  ten  years 
or  more  older  than  Ouantrell,  with  red  hair  and  dull,  brown  eyes. 
Quantrell  remembered  him  long  afterward  by  his  name  being  de- 
scriptive of  the  color  of  those  forbidding  hazel  eyes — Hazle-tt. 

"  The  conductor  was  too  scared  to  go  on  when  we  told  him," 
Hazlett  said,  slipping  his  carbine  under  his  blanket,  which  was  wound 
around  his  body. 

The  other  person,  addressed  as  Lehman,  was  of  black  hair  and 
bright,  boyish  face,  hardly  of  citizen  age.  He  measured  Quantrell's 
strong  form  an  instant  and  said : 

"  Captain  Brown,  you  don't  want  this  man.  Put  him  on  the 
train  and  send  him  off  !  " 

He  gave  a  significant  look  to  Lloyd,  who  had  the  opportunity  to 
say  to  Lehman,  also,  soon  afterward,  upon  the  bridge : 

"  I'll  do  you  a  good  turn,  my  boy.  Take  your  own  advice,  and 
never  cross  that  bridge  again." 

"  And  leave  my  captain  and  comrades.?"  the  boy  replied  ;  "I'll 
leave  my  body  on  one  of  them  rocks  first ! " — pointing  to  the  river. 


136  KATY  OF  CATOCTI/V. 

This  was  after  Ouantrell  had  rejoined  Senator  Pittson's  family 
upon  the  train,  whither  Brown  or  Smith  allowed  him  to  proceed, 
while  looking  for  the  conductor. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

DARK,  LIGHT,  AND    KISS. 

The  train  was  nearly  dark,  as  some  of  the  passengers  had  blown 
out  the  candle  and  whale-oil  lamps,  so  as  not  to  attract  the  aim  of 
rifles ;  and,  feeling  his  way  along,  Quantrell  softly  called  : 

"  Light !  " 

In  an  instant  a  woman  met  him  and  drew  him  to  the  vacant 
place  upon  her  seat,  and  said  : 

"  My  hero !  How  noble  of  you  ! — Papa,  mamma,  here  is  Mr. 
Quantrell  safe  again." 

Quantrell  took  her  hand,  and  in  the  darkness  placed  his  other 
hand  around  the  large  and  glowing  form  of  the  senator's  daughter. 

"  Speak  quietly,"  he  said,  leaning  toward  the  backs  of  her  par- 
ents, on  the  bench  before  him,  "  or  all  the  passengers  will  crowd 
here." 

He  felt  the  deceit  he  was  doing,  for  it  was  to  enjoy  Light's  so- 
ciety that  he  gave  this  counsel.  She  resented  his  endearment  but 
a  moment,  and  in  the  obscurity  sat  within  his  arm,  he  only  the 
trembler. 

The  senator  did  not  speak,  but  his  wife  inquired  distantly  of 
Quantrell  what  nature  of  men  might  have  taken  the  town. 

"  Oh !  sir,  I  know  what  you  will  say,"  Light  Pittson  exclaimed, 
bringing  her  form  and  face  around  to  Quantrell ;  "  I  have  consid- 
ered it  all.  They  are  Mexicans.  See  their  blankets,  and  wide  som- 
brero hats,  and  flashing  lances  !  Are  they  not  rancheros,  caballeros, 
patriots,  who  have  come  to  repay  our  ungenerous  invasion  of  their 
land  }  " 

"  Indeed,"  said  Ouantrell,  "  they  have  come  from  half-way  to- 
ward Mexico.  They  are  Kansas  buccaneers. — Senator  Pittson,  the 
old  man  says  he  is  John  Brown." 

"  John  Brown  !  "  Light  Pittson  exclaimed  ;  "  that's  a  little  plain. 
Not  the  Black  Douglas  !  Nor  Charles  de  Moor  !   Well,  John  Brown 


DA  HA',    LIGHT,    AND  KISS.  j  ^7 

is  simple  heroism.     And  not  Mexican  ?     Why,  all   the   more   ro- 
mantic, papa.     He's  our  own  American  hero." 

The  senator  did  not  speak  immediately,  nor  turn  his  head.  He 
remarked  after  a  pause,  in  which  the  young  couple  sat  bolt  upright, 
enjoying  the  respectful  flutter  of  their  hearts  : 

"  I  feared  some  unbalanced,  or  overbalanced,  man  would  stam- 
pede this  nation,  if  violence  in  Kansas  became  chronic  there.  Our 
prairie-grass  blows  eastward  in  the  season  of  prairie-fires.  Brown 
has  always  trod  a  lonely  and  peculiar  path,  doing  his  own  thinking, 
projecting  comprehensive  enterprises  out  of  no  resources  at  all,  and 
self-confident  enough  to  undertake  the  fulfillment  of  any  forlorn 
hope  or  old  Puritan  dream." 

"  You  knew  him,  then,  papa.?  " 

As  she  leaned  ardently  forward,  Ouantrell  held  her  more 
tightly. 

"  Shame,  sir!  "  Light  Pittson  whispered  to  him.  "  Where  is  your 
mountain  beauty .'' " 

"  It  was  predicted,"  Quantrell  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  that  my 
destiny  should  be  changed  to-night." 

A  slightly  accelerated  breathing  was  her  response,  and  a  stillness 
that  was  the  bliss  of  pain. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  senator,  reflectively,  "  I  once  visited  John  Brown 
in  northeast  Ohio,  near  the  town  where  he  was  raised.  His  father 
was  a  pioneer  of  the  great  West,  a  poor  man,  a  tanner,  and  a  shoe- 
maker. Yet  this  son,  John  Brown,  was  then  aiming  to  control  the 
wool-trade  of  all  the  West,  and  had  a  great  flock  of  Estremadura 
sheep,  and  had  mercantile  aims  which  spanned  two  worlds." 

"  What  did  he  look  like,  Mr.  Pittson  ?  "  Lloyd  asked,  in  the  thrill 
of  both  beauty  and  political  feeling. 

"  Why,  sir  "—the  senator  seemed  more  distant  than  upon  their 
first  acquaintance— "the  scene  he  made  that  day  to  my  boyish  mind 
was  so  romantic  I  never  can  forget  it. " 

"  Ah  !  papa,"  Light  said,  "  I  get  my  romance  legitimately." 
"  Yes,  that  legitimately.  Light,"  the  senator  reflected,  as  if  he 
was  smiling,  too.  "John  Brown  was  then  about  forty-five  years  of 
age.  He  had  lost  four  of  his  children  nearly  at  the  same  funeral. 
He  was  walking  along  on  that  high  plain— the  highest  between  the 
river  Ohio  and  Lake  Erie— with  a  large  basket  upon  his  arm  full  of 
new-born  lambs.  In  his  great  white  coat-pockets  was  a  lamb  in 
each.     The  mothers  of  the  lambs  were  following  him  toward  the 


38 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


fold,  bleating.  And  what  do  you  suppose  he  was  thinking  of,  amid 
those  bleating  dams  and  lambkins  ?  " 

"Wool,  I  reckon,"  Quantrell  spoke,  sullenly — "black  wool." 

"  Yes,  sir,  something  like  that,"  the  senator  rejoined.  "  He  said 
to  me,  '  I  was  just  thinking  that  if  this  Government  did  not  do  bet- 
ter, some  day  I  would  begin  war  upon  human  slavery  and  close  it 
out.'  Strange  that  I  should  have  remembered  it  to  this  night,  for  I 
was  myself  a  boy  !  " 

"  He  has  come,"  said  Quantrell,  "  if  this  be  the  same  man.  His 
basket  and  his  pockets  are  full  of  lambs.  Their  m.others  will  bleat 
to-morrow  when  we  kill  them,  on  the  threshold  of  Virginia." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  that  Brown  should  attempt  anything,  but 
that  he  could  persuade  enough  men  to  follow  him  here  within  the 
lines  of  Baltimore,  Richmond,  and  Washington,  is  a  matter  of  pro- 
found wonder,  and  it  shows,  my  dear,"  he  addressed  his  wife,  "  how 
the  anti-slavery  agitation  has  caught  the  younger  generation  up. 
John  Brown  considers  himself  the  executioner.  He  has  an  indiffer- 
ence about  life,  in  the  furtherance  of  any  extreme  proposition,  that  is 
particularly  Puritan.  I  am  not  well,  and  yet  I  will  try  to  speak  to 
him,  useless  though  it  may  be." 

"  I  will  go  with  you  ! "  said  Lloyd  Quantrell,  rising  from  Miss 
Light's  side. 

"  No,  sir ! "  the  senator  firmly  spoke. — "  Detain  him  here,  my 
daughter.  It  is  fit  that  I  shoirid  risk  my  life  for  Abel  Quantrell's 
son,  and  discharge  my  debt  to  him." 

Mrs.  Pittson,  accompanying  her  husband  down  the  aisle  of  the 
car,  left  Quantrell  free  to  address  her  large,  engaging,  child-daughter 
according  to  the  strange  rebellion  in  his  heart.  He  took  Light's  hand 
again,  and  said : 

"  It  was  to  see  you.  Miss  Light,  that  I  risked  returning  from  my 
prison,  where  I  had  intended  to  stay  and  see  this  outrage  through. 
Do  you  understand  why  we  became  so  soon  interested  in  each 
other  ?  " 

"  Romance — glorious,  sincere  romance !"  Light  Pittson  spoke, 
with  earnestness  that  was  both  eloquent  and  mirth-moving.  "  We 
met  each  other  in  danger !  Among  mountains  !  Going  to  the  grand 
capital  of  our  free  country.  You  were  brave  and  handsome,  and 
became  our  herald  to  the  bandits." 

"  Dear  miss,  it  must  have  been  something  more  than  that.  It 
was  for  your  father,  and  not  for  you,  I  took  my  chances  with  the 


DARK,   LIGHT,   AND  KISS.  j^q 

robbers :  I  did  not  want  him  to  be  exposed.  And  yet,  since  I  have 
entered  their  prison,  the  thought  of  you,  growing  and  growing  in 
my  head — I  think  it  is  not  yet  my  heart — made  me  come  bacl<  to 
see  you  again." 

"  Mr.  Quantrell,  you  wore  my  ribbon,  and  it  was  your  knight- 
hood. You  remember  the  knight  who  went  down  to  the  lion  to 
bring  his  lady  her  glove  she  dropped  there.  He  threw  it  into  her 
face,  because  her  intention  was  not  romantic,  and  merely  a  bit  of 
coquetry." 

"  Then  you  are  no  coquette  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  A  woman  who  w^ould  trifle  with  courage  and  danger, 
and  expose  another  for  less  than  true  romance,  is  the  unworthiest 
of  her  sex." 

"  Were  you  ever  in  love.  Miss  Light  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed.  The  man  I  love  must  have  some  fine  romance 
in  him,  whether  for  good  or  evil.  He  must  be  true  to  his  ideal,  Mr. 
Quantrell.  Papa  is  that  kind  of  man  :  he  admires  candor,  and  says 
hypocrisy  is  the  only  enemy  of  freedom  ;  that  we  need  not  apologize 
for  nature's  deviations  in  us,  and  if  we  err  should  do  so  frankly. 
Never  to  lie,  nor  conceal,  nor  evade ;  to  take  one's  side  in  the  battle 
of  life,  and  let  gallant  conduct  attest  our  honest  motive." 

"  I  believe  with  your  father,  Miss  Light ;  with  him  and  his  fami- 
ly, I  must  disagree  upon  the  subject  of  to-night's  outrage.  I  shall 
take  my  part  against  the  abolitionists  with  all  my  might." 

"  Splendid  ! "  said  Light  Pittson.  "  Who  can  blame  you  for 
choosing  your  side  }  If  not  a  Paladin,  be  a  Saladin  ;  and  always 
chivalric." 

"  Let  me  wear  your  ribbon,  and  I  will  try  to  remember  your 
father's  motto.     Does  he  know  my  father.?  " 

"  He  must,  I  think.  After  you  went  down  among  the  robbers, 
he  was  quite  overcome.  I  heard  him  say, '  The  right  half  of  him  is 
there  ! '     He  has  been  thinking  about  something  ever  since." 

"  Dear  young  lady — Light,  let  me  call  you — " 

"  Oh,  do  !     We  Western  girls  are  never  formal." 

"  There  is  a  right  half  in  me.  There  must  be  also  a  worser 
half,  I  have  had  no  teacher.  My  aims  are  ignorant.  I  live  by 
guess.     May  I  have  your  sympathy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  be  true  to  your  mountain  damsel.  No  dis- 
loyalty, Mr.  Lloyd." 

"You  mean  Lloyd,  Light." 


I40 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN: 


"Well,  Lloyd.     It  sounds  like  loyalty." 

"  And  your  name  sounds  like  knowledge.  I  can  be  loyal  to  my 
errors,  but  where  shall  I  find  light  to  show  them  to  me  ?  " 

"  Papa  says  that  errors  are  the  only  lighthouses,  and  that  dan- 
gerous coasts  are  lighted  by  the  wrecks  they  caused." 

"  Do  you  feel  any  real  interest  in  me  }  " 

"  I  never  was  so  attracted  to  a  gentleman  in  my  life.  You  must 
not  feel  complimented  by  the  truth." 

*'  If  I  had  met  you  one  day  before  yesterday,"  Lloyd  Quantrell 
said  earnestly,  "  I  think  I  never  could  have  loved  any  other  woman." 

She  was  not  of  the  trembling  kind  of  girls,  her  youthful  body 
too  precocious  and  substantial  to  yield  to  nervous  rippling,  but  his 
ardent  speech  made  her  breathe  audibly  and  be  silent.  A  stranger 
had  spoken  the  first  avowal  of  love  to  her. 

"  Answer  me,  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  said. 

"  Oh,  this  beautiful  Eastern  land  !  "  she  replied.  "  In  this,  my 
first  distant  journey,  I  have  found  mountains  and  robbers,  and  had  a 
gallant  gentleman  make  love  to  me.    What — what  romance ! " 

"Add  this  to  it,"  said  Lloyd. 

He  kissed  her. 

She  gave  a  scream,  impetuous  as  her  blushes. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Light !  "  spoke  the  voice  of  her  father  at 
the  car-door;  "  I'm  not  hurt,  though  I  might  have  been." 

Quantrell  felt  relieved  that*  the  scream  had  been  passed  to  a 
false  account. 

"  Never  mind,  my  dear,"  Senator  Edgar  Pittson  said  to  his  wife, 
as  they  both  came  forward  out  of  obscurity  to  more  darkness.  "  He 
did  threaten  me,  and  his  manner  showed  an  indifference  to  life  I  had 
suspected  of  him  when  his  self-righteous  confidence  is  in  com- 
mission." 

"  Who,  papa — the  brigand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  John  Brown — grayer,  graver,  commoner,  but  peculiar 
yet,  and  walking  to-night  the  loneliest  of  all  his  peculiar  paths." 

Mr.  Pittson  sank  nervously  into  his  seat,  and  wife  and  daughter 
soothed  him,  while  Lloyd  persuaded  the  interested  passengers  to 
give  a  sick  gentleman  privacy. 

"  I  did  not  know  I  could  be  really  scared  so,"  the  senator  spoke, 
after  taking  breath.    "  He  has  a  singular  power  over  men's  terrors." 

"  Indeed  he  has,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  added.  "  I  have  felt  it  to- 
night, senator ;  the  maniac  is  dead  in  earnest." 


DARK,   LIGHT,    AND  KISS. 


141 


"  Wonderful  romance !  "  Light  exclaimed,  and  her  mother  re- 
proved her.     "  What  did  General  Brown  say  to  you,  papa  ?  " 

"  He  was  at  the  side  of  the  car,  as  Mr.  Quantrell  had  intimated, 
and  was  commanding  the  unwilling  conductor  to  cross  the  bridge 
with  his  train.  I  introduced  myself,  and  remonstrated  with  him 
upon  this  extraordinary  breach  of  the  peace.  He  turned  upon  me 
and  demanded  my  name  and  business.  When  he  recognized  me, 
he  ordered  me  to  get  on  the  train  and  proceed,  under  pain  of  death." 

"  Afraid  of  your  influence,  Edgar  1  "  Mrs.  Pittson  observed,  a 
lady  large,  like  her  daughter,  as  it  seemed. 

"  Oh,  no.  He  called  me  a  temporizer  and  a  compromiser,  and 
said  that  if  public  men  like  me,  from  the  free  States,  had  done  our 
duty,  he  and  his  lads  need  not  be  in  amris  upon  slave  soil  to-night. 
'  Go  to  Washington,'  said  he,  'and  tell  Congress  that  John  Brown 
has  reopened  the  American  Revolution  ! '  His  followers,  like  him- 
self, were  no  respecters  of  my  person.    But,  see  !  we  are  starting." 

The  train  was  really  moving,  slowly  on  squeaking  wheels,  like 
timid  people  going  tiptoe  up  stairways  which  creak  the  more  for 
their  indecision.  Looking  out  of  the  window,  Quantrell  saw  the 
mountain  farmer  walking  by  the  conductor  and  his  lamp — the  con- 
ductor hesitating  and  downcast,  the  mountaineer  with  the  step  of 
one  oblivious  to  danger. 

"  I  could  kill  him  now,"  spoke  Quantrell,  half  aloud. 

"  Oh,  no,"  the  voice  of  Light  Pittson  answered  at  his  ear.  "  Not 
while  we  are  under  his  safe-conduct.  What  a  simple  old  man ! 
But,  see,  how  venerable  his  beard  is  !  How  much  he  seems  deter- 
mined !  How  considerate,  but  not  for  himself !  And  this  is  Brown 
of  Ossawattomie  !    Was  there  ever  such  a  romance  ?  " 

The  train  passed  the  sentries  and  messenger ;  the  sound  of  solid 
ground  was  beneath  the  wheels.  Quantrell  lighted  one  of  the  lamps. 
For  a  little  while  the  speed  was  increased  as  if  under  fright,  and  then 
the  engine  lost  self-control  and  everything  was  arrested. 

"  They  need  not  be  examining  the  wheels  and  gear,"  Mr.  Pitt- 
son said  ;  "  if  Brown  designed  harm  to  any  here,  he  would  not  have 
hesitated  to  commit  it." 

"  You  think  such  a  man  can  have  any  honor,  senator  ?  "  Lloyd 
asked. 

"  Yes.  It  is  the  quality  of  the  old  Cromwellians  to  take  life 
without  much  sensibility,  but  to  stickle  at  any  deceit,  compromise, 
or  false  doctrine.     This  man  Brown  would  have  sat  in  Bradshaw's 


142 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIiV. 


place  to  judge  King  Charles,  and  would  not  have  masked  his  face 
when  chopping  off  the  king's  head  ;  but  he  would  never  throw  a 
train  from  the  track,  to  injure  innocent  people.  His  parole  he  never 
would  violate." 

"  Much  as  I  hate  him,"  Quantrell  said,  "I  will  not  be  outdone 
by  him.  I  was  his  prisoner,  and  am  under  some  sense  of  parole.  I 
will  return  to  Harper's  Ferry." 

"  Nonsense,  Lloyd  Quantrell !  The  parole  John  Brown  intended 
for  you,  I  suspect,  was  not  to  return.  He  told  me  that  he  wished 
there  was  not  a  citizen  in  Harper's  Ferry ;  that  he  only  came  for 
arms,  slaves,  and  slave-hostages." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  shall  return,"  Quantrell  said. 

"  Always  my  hero  ! "  Light  Pittson  exclaimed.  "  Yes,  return  like 
Regulus,  Lloyd,  if  they  roll  you  down  the  mountains  in  a  barrel  of 
knives  !     I  would  always  keep  my  word." 

"  My  daughter,"  spoke  Mrs.  Pittson,  a  large,  somewhat  haughty 
lady,  "  you  call  Mr.  Quantrell  '  Lloyd.'     That  is  not  modest." 

"  Mamma,  it  is  very  natural  to  say  '  Lloyd  '  to  him.  He  calls  me 
'  Light.'     This  is  not  romance,  mamma.     I  feel  it." 

They  were  all  standing  in  the  car,  which  a  brakeman  had  fully 
lighted.  Lloyd  observed  that  even  under  the  late  excited  conditions 
some  of  the  passengers  were  fast  asleep.  He  also  saw  that  Senator 
Pittson  and  wife  were  looking  searchingly  at  him,  with  somewhat 
different  expressions,  and,  unable  to  decipher  these,  Lloyd  exclaimed  : 

"  Mrs.  Pittson,  Light  is  as  modest  as  any  young  lady  in  the  land. 
That  I  would  maintain  with  my  life.  Why  we  feel  so  near  each 
other  we  can  not  tell.  Let  me  come  to  see  you  in  Washington  if  I 
live." 

"  My  daughter  is  ver)'  young — too  young  for  gentlemen's  society 
yet,"  Mrs.  Pittson  coldly  replied.  "  I  think  this  chance  acquaintance 
had  better  end." 

"  Mamma,"  pleaded  Light  Pittson,  "  it  may  be  our  destiny.  Did 
we  seek  this  precious  opportunity  of  romance  ?  " 

"  Romantic  girl,"  answered  Mrs.  Pittson,  "  what  will  restrain 
you  in  Washington  if  you  yield  to  these  illusions  of  love  upon  a  rail- 
road-train }  " 

"  Not  love,  but  affection,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  spoke,  taking  Light's 
hand  and  seeking  her  father's  eyes.  "  Mr.  Pittson,  in  our  short 
acquaintance  we  have  both  been  in  danger  for  each  other.  I  like 
you  all.    Miss  Light  is  dear  to  me  as  your  daughter.    I  have  a  great 


DARK,   LIGHT,   AND  KISS. 


143 


favor  to  ask  of  you,  sir;  but  I  ask  it  boldly  and  in  all  the  light  of 
honor." 

He  glanced  at  the  senator's  daughter  as  he  unconsciously  played 
upon  her  name.  The  senator  stood  nearly  rigid,  slender,  and,  as  it 
seemed,  deadly  pale. 

"  I  know  what  you  will  ask,"  the  senator  said. 

Lloyd  Quantrell  felt  himself  blushing,  in  spite  of  all  his  moral 
courage. 

"  If  you  know,"  he  continued,  "  you  must  read  me  very  deeply. 
I  shall  ask  to  repeat  candidly  what  I  have  done  covertly." 

"  Mabel,"  the  senator  turned  to  his  distinguished-looking  wife, 
"  Mr.  Quantrell  wishes  to  kiss  our  daughter." 

"This  is  going  too  far,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Pittson,  flushing  and 
opening  her  dark,  creole  eyes. 

"  I  do,  madam ;  I  wish  to  kiss  my  beautiful  friend  good-by  in 
sight  of  her  parents." 

"  No,  it  should  not  be,"  Mrs.  Pittson  commanded.  "  I  must  for- 
bid it." 

The  senator  wore  a  strange  yet  touching  smile  as  he  contem- 
plated the  young  man  with  something  between  wonder  and  affec- 
tion.    Almost  automatically  he  spoke : 

"  It  is  the  voice  of  nature,  wife,  and  pure  as  nature  ever  must 
be  in  candor  such  as  his.     Yes — " 

"  Edgar ! " 

"Yes,  Mabel — I  say  yes." 

He  made  a  motion  with  his  foot  a  little  imperious  and  turned  to 
look  at  his  wife. 

"  Is  this  prudent  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  No,"  said  Senator  Pittson,  with  a  face  made  cheerful,  as  by  his 
will.  "  It  may  not  be  prudent,  but  it  is  real.  Let  it  come  in  its 
own  way." 

Lloyd  took  the  youthful  maiden's  hand,  her  development  so 
womanly,  her  expression  so  child-like,  as  she  turned  her  face  upward 
without  fear. 

"  As  I  wear  your  ribbon,  Light,  take  my  kiss — openly,  sincerely, 
heartily,  before  father  and  mother.     God  bless  you  !  " 

She  stood  looking  at  him  in  perfect  admiration.  Her  mother 
took  his  proffered  hand  with  a  countenance  indicative  of  pride  and 
fear  more  than  dislike.  The  senator  wore  a  gentle  smile,  like  one 
whose  decision  his  mind  approved,  and  said  : 


'44 


A'ATY  OF  CATOCTIX. 


"  You  have  even-ihing,  Lloyd,  but  what  you  will  lose." 
To  the  last  Ouantrell  saw  that  superb  flower  of  woman,  yet  in 
the  age  of  the  bud,  giving  him  her  whole  romantic  soul  through  her 
great  gray  eyes.  The  train  moved  eastward  under  the  mountain- 
crags  and  cast  its  lights  in  the  sluggish  canal  which  wound  beside 
iL  Ouantrell  was  standing  alone,  between  road,  railroad,  canal,  and 
the  rocky-  gridiron  of  the  river.  He  saw,  a  Ultle  way  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  retreating  red  lantern  of  the  train,  the  bars  of  houses  at 
Sandy  Hook. 

"I'll  wake  my  landlord  up,  and  fill  my  flask,  and  tell  him  the 
news,"  Lloyd  Ouantrell  said,  carr}-ing  his  gun  and  game-bag. 


CHAPTER   XVL 

THE  SUCK. 

"They're  fighting  at  the  Ferr}-,"  Lloyd  said  to  the  landlord, 
who  arose  half  awake,  and  was  not  inquisitive. 

"  Always  fightin'  thar,"  the  landlord  replied,  giving  him  some 
new  country  whisky. 

"Abolitionists  have  taken  the  Ferr}-,"  Lloyd  explained. 

"  Then  they'll  git  tuk,"  the  landlord  obser\-ed,  as  if  the  Ferry 
was  "  tuk  "  ever}-  night.     "  Harper's  Ferry  is  an  ole  suck." 

"Suck?"  repeated  Ouanueil,  struck  with  the  word;  "how  a 
suck  }  " 

"  That's  the  name  of  it.  Injuns  called  it  the  Hole  and  the  Suck. 
Nobody  ever  gits  out  that  gits  in  thar.  Railroad  stuck  thar  for 
years.     Gov'ment  can't  git  out.     It's  the  Suck." 

"  '  Sucks  people  in,'  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  ole  Bob  Harper  tuk  it  up  from  Pete  Stevens  over  a  hun- 
dered  years  ago.  Pete  had  squatted  thar  years  on  Lord  Fairfax  and 
couldn't  git  out.  Bob  Harper  left  his  bones  thar.  The  floods  gits 
it,  the  winds  gits  it,  whisky  gits  it,  and  now,  did  you  say,  the  abo- 
litionists has  got  it  ?     It'll  be  a  suck." 

"  Old  Isaac  Smith  and  sons  have  took  it,"  Lloyd  said,  falling 
into  the  s}-ntax  of  the  place.  "  They  and  a  band  of  abolitionists- 
They're  killing  people  there." 

"  Isaac  Smith  ?  "  the  landlord  said.     "  And  sons  ?     Is  them  abo- 


THE   SUCK. 


145 


litionists  ?  They  stopped  with  me  when  they  fust  come  yer.  They 
come  to  Sandy  Hook  last  July,  an'  said  they  was  lookin'  for  minerals, 
an'  sheep-lands  an'  farms.  Well,  well !  Is  them  abolitionists  ?  I 
thought  they  was  Christians,     They'll  find  Harper's  Feny-  a  suck." 

The  landlord  filled  Ouantrell's  flask,  put  up  his  bottle,  and  went 
to  bed.  Having  slept  there  two  nights  before,  the  gunner  sought 
his  own  room  mechanically,  and  stretching  himself  on  the  bed  said, 
sleepily,  "  False  to  Katy  ! — not  I  "  ;  and  then,  it  seemed  to  him,  the 
sun  rose  right  into  his  eyes.  He  had  fallen  asleep,  probably  for 
hours. 

Nobody  was  awake  in  the  hotel.  He  strolled  up  the  road  lead- 
ing from  the  river,  and  found  himself  in  Pleasant  \*alley,  between 
the  two  mountain-lines,  in  rugged  farm-countr}'.  He  retraced  his 
road  under  Mar}-land  Heights  back  toward  Harper's  Fern*,  and 
soon  saw  that  picturesque  village  standing  like  the  nipple  above 
"  The  Suck."  The  sun  was  just  rising  up  the  shining  lap  of  the 
Potomac,  and  shooting  silver  arrows  at  the  little  city,  which  stood 
out  like  a  target. 

Harper's  Ferr\-  appeared  between  the  two  rivers,  rising  like  a 
great  green  mound,  with  a  road  dividing  it  over  the  top  through  a 
ravine,  and  another  road  around  the  base  of  the  mound ;  and  for  a 
little  way  up  its  scarp  hung  or  clung  the  picturesque  little  town, 
which  also  raveled  along  the  upland  road  among  borders  of  shade- 
trees  till  it  disappeared  over  the  summit.  This  hill  was  several  hun- 
dred feet  high,  and  three  or  four  churches  presented  their  gables 
from  its  grassy  face,  as  if  their  pulpits  had  been  buried  in  the  earth. 
A  spire  or  belfry  or  mountain  graveyard  added  points  of  whiteness 
to  the  green  background  or  clear  gray  sky,  ar^d  some  stone  walls  and 
terraces  and  bits  of  pasture-land  where  cows  were  quietly  grazing  in 
the  air\-  tops  gave  a  faint  sense  of  inhabitancy.  To  the  right  over 
the  Potomac  the  eastern  portion  of  the  mound  terminated  in  a  nearly 
perpendicular  crag,  out  of  which  grew  a  pale-green  thicket  of  trees 
and  bushes,  leaning  alm&st  horizontally.  From  near  this  abrupt 
headland  to  the  low  cape  of  the  mound  extended  the  stately  line  of 
low  brick  factories  with  high  chimneys,  and  m  the  midst  a  lofty  flag- 
mast.  These  buildings  in  their  continuation  also  turned  the  cape 
and  extended  a  little  way  up  the  other  river,  and  below  the  factory 
line  ran  railroads  coming  down  the  sides  of  the  two  rivers  and  meet- 
ing at  a  covered  bridge  of  wood  which  spanned  the  Potomac  on 
arches  of  stone  to  the  Maryland  shore. 
7 


146  KATY   OF   CATOCTIN. 

In  overlapping  rows  of  irregular  heights  the  dormer-windowed 
houses  and  other  dwellings,  more  detached,  caught  in  their  panes 
of  glass  the  rising  sun  which  shone  through  the  rifted  precipices  up 
the  broad,  islet-sprinkled,  rock-barred  rivers,  making  them  seem 
aisles  of  silver  between  borders  of  green  and  russet.  A  canal 
wound  along  the  larger  river  like  a  silver  cord  under  the  bare  crags 
of  Maryland. 

Another  bridge,  starting  from  near  the  commencement  of  the 
larger  one,  passed  on  slender  abutments  to  the  mountain  above  the 
Shenandoah.  This  mountain  at  the  cape  above  the  mingling  of  the 
rivers  fell  in  perpendicular  ledges  or  chimneys  almost  a  thousand 
feet  to  the  woodlands  which  grew  from  its  debris  and  spread  toward 
the  eye  in  graceful  wreaths  of  verdurous  mountain,  along  whose  sides 
could  be  seen  the  eagles,  vultures,  and  crows  circling  as  if  around 
nests  concealed  in  the  rocks.  For  several  miles  these  Virginia 
precipices  curled  over  the  Potomac  as  if  seeking  courage  to  span  it 
and  connect  with  the  bald,  scarred  wall  of  Maryland  Mountain  ;  but 
failing  to  do  so  till  far  below,  a  valley  found  place  in  Maryland  to 
empty  its  creeks  into  the  augmented  Potomac  between  these  hesitat- 
ing ridges. 

Thus  the  town  of  Harper's  Ferry  slumbered  at  the  base  of  its 
own  acclivity,  between  the  jaws  of  grander  mountains  which  threat- 
ened to  fall  upon  it  and  drown  it  in  a  deluge,  like  that  which  had 
probably  broken  them  asunder.  There  seemed  wanting,  to  com- 
plete the  subjugation  of  the  town,  some  mighty  castle  of  the  feudal 
age  to  crown  its  dome  of  greenness.  He  who  descends  the  Alpine 
torrents  toward  the  great  plain  of  Lombardy  may  see  sublimer 
heights  for  the  old  Ghibelline  castles  which  frown  toward  the  Papal 
sees,  but  nowhere  else  could  he  see  two  such  rivers  meet  and  go 
forward  like  white-plumed  cavalry  to  wash  the  old  Catholic  counties 
of  the  plain  of  Maryland. 

An  autumn  russet  lay  inwoven  with  the  green  and  gray  scarps  of 
the  desolate  mountams,  like  camp-fires  which  had  gone  out,  in  the 
awe  of  what  had  seized  upon  the  usually  whistling  and  hammering 
town  in  the  vale.  The  crows  and  vultures  chattered  or  circled  in 
wondering  gossip  or  augury  about  the  steepling  chimneys  of  Lou- 
doun Heights,  as  on  that  morning  when  Romulus  and  Remus 
watched  the  birds  of  omen  and  spilled  the  first  blood  of  brethren  in 
cuddling  Rome. 

The  little  city  hugging  the  heights,  familiar  with  deluges,  forg- 


THE  SUCK. 


14; 


ing  arms  for  battle,  and  often  sheeted  over  by  the  thunder-storms,  was 
on  this  day  so  commonplace  amid  its  great  besetments,  that  it  stirred 
no  more  than  the  water-snakes  upon  the  surface  of  the  river  rocks, 
which  felt  their  cold  blood  grow  torpid  in  the  cloudy  October  air. 
The  insensate  and  the  superstitious,  the  vulgar  and  the  rapt,  leth- 
argy and  Nemesis,  went  together,  as  on  that  day  when,  at  the  walls 
of  Troy,  a  wooden  horse  arose  ridiculous,  but  in  the  sky  a  serpent 
shook  the  stout  soul  of  the  protesting  priest. 

The  Shenandoah,  in  cool,  green  rapids  and  white  ripples,  came 
around  a  shoulder  of  wooded  mountain  in  a  stately  curve,  and  a 
low  stone  dike,  partly  natural,  held  its  current  back,  to  guide  the 
water-power  into  two  milling  canals  which  formed  green  islands 
under  the  mutilated  heights  of  Jefferson's  Rock.  These  islands  were 
inhabited  by  artisans  and  by  toilers  in  the  tall  grist-mills  there,  and 
the  upper  island  was  another  Government  armory,  with  a  line  of 
workshops  inclosed  by  a  wall  and  entered  by  a  bridge  across  the 
mill-sluice.  Within  the  wall,  a  cupola  tower  in  the  fagade  inclosed 
a  bell  and  upheld  a  flag-staff,  and  behind  the  rifle-works,  next  to  the 
river,  a  railway  ran  toward  the  great  Valley  of  Virginia. 

The  sound  of  the  Shenandoah  churning  among  huge  rocks  and 
moaning  over  the  low  dam  never  was  unheard  here  in  the  busiest 
days,  and  in  the  still  dawn  it  seemed  to  speak  a  legend  in  the 
voice  of  sobbing,  like  the  legend  of  bondage  by  the  rivers  of  Baby- 
lon. 

Upon  the  summits  above  Jefferson's  Rock  lived  the  chief  officials 
of  Harper's  Ferry,  in  roomy  mansions,  and  thus  the  double  river- 
gorge  and  rocky  redan  of  the  upper  town  maintained  a  feudal  ap- 
pearance, and  had  that  military  air  as  of  some  castellated  pass  held 
for  a  distant  emperor  by  his  various  mercenary  bands. 

A  little  passenger-packet  lay  in  the  canal,  with  steam  up,  ready 
to  make  her  trip  to  Washington  city  through  the  many  locks. 
Looking  up  at  the  telegraph-poles,  Lloyd  Quantrell  saw  that  their 
wires  had  been  torn  and  the  broken  strands  hung  near  the  bridge- 
entrance. 

"  Poor  Heywood  !  "  he  said,  thinking  of  the  wounded  negro ;  "  no 
wonder  he  could  not  apprise  me  of  the  coming  train.  Smith's  band 
had  severed  communications.  But  by  this  time  the  night  express 
is  nearly  at  Baltimore,  and  all  Maryland  will  be  aroused." 

Within  the  entrance  of  the  Potomac  bridge  a  form  with  a  spear 
came  out  of  the  dark  shadows  and  sternly  ordered  Quantrell  to  halt. 


148 


KATY  OF  CATOCTJN. 


"  Ashby !    Is  that  your  voice  ?  " 

"  Halt !     Ef  you  don't,  I'll  kill  you  !  " 

The  negro  drove  his  spear  close  to  Quantrell's  throat. 

"  Kill  me,"  said  Quantrell.  "  Do  !  because  I  pitied  you  when 
your  old  father  died.  Because  I  was  hated  for  taking  your  part. 
Because  I  fought  and  whipped  your  catchers.  Come  here  and  look 
at  me,  Ashby  ! " 

The  darkness,  growing  familiar,  showed  the  negro  to  drop  his 
spear  and  gaze  at  his  prisoner  irresolutely,  He  wore  the  old  straw 
hat  his  dead  father  had  worn,  but  around  his  nearly  naked  body  a 
blanket  was  tied,  like  the  other  abolitionists'  uniform  ;  his  feet  were 
naked,  and  he  limped. 

"  Kill  the  only  man  who  can  save  you  from  a  horrible  death, 
Ashby  !  By  noon  to-day  you  and  the  men  who  have  seduced  you 
will  be  howling  on  your  backs  for  water  to  cool  your  wounds." 

"  What  kin  I  do  ?  "  the  escaped  slave  exclaimed.  "  I  come  for 
my  daddy.  Dey  killed  him  and  tuk  me.  De  Kinsas  men  set  on  to 
'em  and  give  me  freedom  and  told  me  to  fight  for  my  race.  I  must ! 
I  know  I'll  die,  but  I  must  fight.  Come  with  me,  or  I'll  call  Cap'n 
Watson  Brown  yonder !  " 

He  raised  and  clinched  his  spear  again.  In  the  perspective  of 
the  bridge-tube,  Quantrell  saw  the  forms  of  two  more  men.  He 
spoke  with  quiet  decision  : 

"  Ashby,  I  am  going  to  buy  you  and  send  you  North  to  your 
mother.  Mr.  Beall  has  told  me  your  story.  Your  mother  never 
meant  to  have  you  mixed  up  in  a  rebellion  like  this.  You  have  done 
your  duty  to  your  father,  and  I  can  pardon  and  pity  you." 

The  kind  tones  brought  down  the  negro's  pike  again. 

"  Where  is  the  man  who  owned  you  ?  " 

"  Over  yer  in  Marylin." 

"  What  are  you  sentinel  for  at  this  point  ?" 

"  I  was  goin'  with  Cap'n  Cook  and  his  party  over  to  git  de  guns 
at  de  farm,  but  I  limped  so,  dey  leff  me  yer  and  tole  me  to  take 
everybody  prisoners  an'  march  'em  to  de  engine-house." 

"  March  me  there,  Ashby.  Tell  Captain  Brown's  officers  and 
men  that  I  was  kind  to  you  when  your  father  died.  You  can  help 
me  out  of  danger,  and  I  will  try  to  save  your  life  in  return  for  it. 
Hide  this  piece  of  money  to  buy  shelter,  or  food,  or  conveyance,  if 
you  need  them.  Keep  me  this  day  in  your  humble  care  and  watch, 
and  to-morrow  I  will  not  forcret  it." 


THE   SUCK. 


49 


"  Mosster,"  the  negro  said,  "  I'll  do  de  best  I  kin  for  you,  for  your 
kindness.     My  heart's  mos'  broke." 

"  Halt !  Who  comes  there  ?  "  cried  a  bold  voice  from  the  middle 
of  the  bridge  as  they  advanced. 

"  Friend  with  a  prisoner !  " 

"  Advance,  friend  with  the  prisoner !  Who  is  it .''  "  spoke  the 
voice  of  Watson  Brown. 

"  Isabel!  "  resonantly  answered  Quantrell. 

There  was  a  startled  motion,  and  the  voice  was  not  so  bold,  as 
it  stammered : 

"  Isabel  ?     What  Isabel — not  mine  ?  " 

"Watson,"  said  Quantrell,  coming  closer,  "it's  Lloyd,  whom 
you  met  on  the  mountains." 

"  Who  answered  '  Isabel,'  sir  .^  " 

The  young  man  was  stern  and  excited. 

"  It  must  have  been  an  echo,"  Quantrell  replied,  carelessly,  but 
watching  the  young  invader  closely.  "  Your  father  let  me  out  on 
my  parole.     I've  seen  my  friends  off,  and  I'm  coming  back.'' 

"  I  know  I  heard  my  wife's  name,"  repeated  Watson  Brown. 

"  It's  probably  an  echo  from  the  wind,  my  poor  fellow — some 
premonition — some  spirit,  such  as  the  spirits  Captain  Stevens 
sees." 

"  I  never  believed  in  such  things  before,"  the  son  of  Ossawatto- 
mie  Brown  muttered.  " '  Isabel '  is  my  wife.  She  has  a  Httle  baby 
I  never  saw,  sir.  Where  she  lives,  in  the  great  North  Woods,  the 
snow  drifts  into  our  bedroom  and  the  wind  moans  in  sounds  like 
that  I  heard,  through  the  long  winter  soon  to  begin." 

"  You  are  cruel  to  Isabel,  Watson.  What  are  the  moans  of  ne- 
groes to  the  call  of  your  wife  and  baby-child  ?  " 

"  In  God's  ears  they  are  the  same,  my  soul  tells  me.  I  can't  go 
home  while  things  are  done  that  I  have  seen,  even  in  Maryland. 
Nine  black  men  died  and  one  killed  himself  near  our  mountain  farm 
since  we  have  lived  there  ;  all  on  slavery's  cruel  account. — Take 
Mr.  Quantrell  to  headquarters!"  he  ended,  speaking  to  the  ne- 
gro. 

"That  was  a  home  shot  I  gave  him,"  thought  the  Baltimorean. 
"  I  heard  him  blubber  '  Isabel '  to  Coppock  at  the  mountain  farm. 
What  a  fanatic  !  Does  he  expect  retribution  for  every  negro  moth- 
er's heart-ache  ?     That  would  take  too  long." 

Still,  he  was  out  of  temper,  spiteful  but  not  afraid,  and  when  he 


ISO 


A'ATY  OF  c A  roc  tin: 


emerged  from  the  bridge  and  saw  Oliver  Brown,  hardly  of  man's 
age,  standing  there  in  blanket  and  gun,  he  cried,  with  cold  gay- 
ety : 

"  Hallo,  Oliver !  I'm  going  to  my  prison.  No  wife  have  I  to 
pine  for  me.     I  hope  you  haven't." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Quantrell.  I'm  sorry  to  see  you  back.  I  have  a  wife 
that  was  with  me  in  Maryland,  and  I  took  her  and  my  little  sister 
back  to  New  York  before  we  should  be  in  danger :  her  next  little 
boy  will  be  a  Marylander,  I  calkelate." 

"  Ah  !  Oliver,  wasn't  that  selfish,  to  remove  your  women  from 
danger,  and  start  insurrection  on  ours  ?  " 

A  young  connection  of  the  Smiths,  named  Dolph  or  Dauph 
Thompson,  as  Quantrell  had  observed,  replied  to  this  reproof: 

"  It  was  about  this  time  of  the  morning,  I  calkelate,  that  the 
Border  Ruffians  moved  on  Lawrence  in  Kansas,  eight  hundred 
strong.  It  was  only  two  or  three  years  ago.  Artillery  with  'em,  too  ! 
Mississippi  rifles,  you  can  calkelate.  Georgians,  Alabamians,  Caro- 
linians !  They  looked  as  if  the  pirates  had  took  the  poor-house. 
Jeff  Thompson,  of  Harper's  Ferry  here,  and  now  mayor  of  the  city 
of  Saint  Joe,  I  calkelate  was  among  'em.  United  States  Senator 
Atchison  addressed  'em— drunk,  you  can  bet !  '  Boys,'  says  he,  '  to- 
day I'm  a  Kickapoo  ranger.  If  you  find  a  woman  armed  as  a  sol- 
dier, trample  her  under  foot  as  you  would  a  snake.'  A  tiger  was 
on  their  flag.  They  broke  the  printing-presses,  robbed  the  people, 
pillaged  from  men  and  women,  stole  ladies'  letters,  blew  up  the 
buildings,  and  sacked  the  town.  I  calkelate  I  know,  for  my  brother 
Henry  shed  his  blood  there." 

"My  brother  Frederick,"  said  Oliver  Brown,  "was  shot  in  Kan- 
sas and  killed.  A  preacher  from  Missouri  murdered  him.  My 
brother  John  was  drove  crazy  by  chains  and  cruelty.  Our  wives 
was  threatened  with  abuse  and  shame  if  we  didn't  leave  free  soil. 
Through  the  streets  of  Leavenworth  the  scalps  of  men  were  paraded 
on  poles.  In  Bloomington  a  woman  who  spoke  against  slavery  was 
outraged  by  a  troop.  Where  women  couldn't  live,  men  didn't  want 
to  settle,  and  here  we  are,  outlaws  back  from  Kansas,  starting  the 
war  at  the  right  end  !  " 

"  Prospectin'-like,"  added  Dolph  Thompson,  almost  merrily. 

Quantrell  passed  on,  bitter  yet  awed,  as  the  dim  recollection  of 
past  troubles  in  Kansas  was  made  vivid  by  these  survivors.  He 
thought  to  himself,  "  Perhaps  they  do  mean  to  put  us  all  to  death." 


THE    SUCK.  15  I 

As  he  meditated,  the  voice  of  Stevens  was  heard  from  the  armory- 
gate  :  "  No  parley  with  prisoners.  March  your  man  right  here ! 
Shoot  him  if  he  hesitates  !  " 

As  Stevens  spoke,  his  short  rifle  was  in  both  hands.  From  both 
bridges  blanketed  guardsmen  emerged,  with  rifles  in  poise.  By  the 
arsenal-gate  Coppock  was  looking  intently  on,  his  belt  full  of  weap- 
ons and  his  gun  across  his  arm.  The  little  wooden  saloon  in  the 
eye  of  the  vista  was  being  opened  by  its  proprietor  within,  and 
some  of  the  band  were  watching  it,  also. 

"  March  ! "  spoke  the  negro  Ashby,  hoarsely,  looking  fear,  yet 
fidelity,  at  his  prisoner. 

John  Brown,  or  Isaac  Smith,  whichever  he  might  truly  be,  came 
out  to  the  gate  and  said  to  Quantrell : 

"  I  allowed  you  to  go  away  from  here,  sir.  You  will  be  in  danger, 
and  yet  I  warned  you  carefully. — Take  him  in  there  and  see  that  he 
behaves  himself,"  addressing  the  negro.  "  He  will  not  be  discharged 
again." 

"  Still  tender  on  the  mourning-doves,  Mr.  Smith,"  Quantrell  re- 
plied.    "  Listen  ! " 

Two  guns  went  off  close  by  in  the  public  street,  and  sounds  of 
running  or  hustling  feet  were  heard. 

"  What's  that  ?   Firing  }  "  interestedly  asked  John  Brown. 

As  they  listened,  another  gun  went  off,  from  the  arsenal-wall 
right  opposite,  and  there  was  a  loud  cry  of  a  man  from  up  in  the 
chasm  of  the  hill  street.  Quantrell  looked  up  where  this  street  met 
the  business  street,  and  saw  three  of  the  blanketed  men  emerge,  all 
three  with  smoking  guns. 

"  Dat  time  I  got  him  ! "  said  a  hoarse  voice,  as  the  negi'o,  Newby, 
quietly  wiped  his  rifle-top  with  his  blanket. 

Another  scream,  or  groan,  floated  from  the  railway-station,  where 
the  negro  porter  had  yet  several  hours  to  live. 

These  awful  sounds  in  the  still  morning-time,  blended  by  the 
two  rivers  in  their  plaintive  wail,  were  followed  by  repeated  whin- 
ings  of  a  dog,  and  the  pointer  Albion  made  his  appearance  in  the 
armory-yard,  crouching  or  gamboling  high  in  the  air.  as  if  the  word 
"  dove  "  had  touched  his  soft  and  pliant  ferocities. 

"  Spirits  !  "  said  the  man  Stevens.  "  They're  never  far  away  ! 
The  men  has  found  some  citizens  with  arms,  and  sent  them  spirit- 
way.     Now  we'll  get  prisoners." 

These  sounds  of  war  gave  nervous  impulse  to  the  invaders  in  the 


1^2  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

streets :  their  heads  were  more  erect,  their  vigilance  was  renewed. 
People  came  sauntering  in  and  were  halted  and  seized  with  a  pre- 
cision which  paralyzed  resistance  or  curiosity. 

The  evening  bacchanal  with  a  parched  throat,  going  for  his 
morning  "  cocktail,"  forgot  his  need  when  confronted  by  an  open 
rifle-barrel  and  a  stranger  in  the  wild  garb  of  blanket,  slouched  hat, 
and  belted  person,  bristling  with  killing  arms.  The  laborer  coming 
toward  work  on  river,  store,  canal,  or  farm,  saw  this  apparition, 
and  looking  round  in  fear  beheld  its  duplicate  cutting  off  his  retreat, 
and  yielded,  limp  and  docile.  The  saloons,  half  open,  felt  the 
absence  of  customers,  and  seeing  these  strange  forms,  both  black 
and  white,  their  keepers  dodged  within,  or,  walking  forth,  were  taken 
from  their  bottles. 

Occasionally  some  man  and  even  woman  would  pass  along  and 
feel  queer  at  the  unexpected  sights,  yet  be  without  the  understand- 
ing to  pause  or  inquire,  carried  onward  by  a  simple  instinct  which 
preserved  them  from  arrest.  Again  some  fierce  Caucasian  laborer, 
seeing  an  armed  negro  in  his  path,  would  raise  the  customary  fist 
to  strike  the  helot  down,  and,  with  astonishment  that  made  him 
dumb,  would  find  that  negro  brave  and  deadly,  and  meekly  receive 
from  such  a  source  his  own  favorite  execration.  The  damning  of 
black  souls  by  fellow-men  was  impotent  that  day,  because  the  white 
man's  spirit  had  brooded  over  -these  black  eggs  and  hatched  them 
to  armed  men. 

There  was  a  sound  of  hoofs  before  Quantrell  entered  the  gate, 
and  a  man  with  a  pale  face,  whom  he  recognized  as  the  village 
doctor,  dashed  past  upon  a  horse  and  galloped  up  the  hill 
street. 

"  Be  firm  but  considerate,  men,"  Quantrell  heard  John  Brown 
say ;  "  capture  them  who  resist.  Take  no  life  unless  your  own  is  in 
peril !    But  we  must  hold  our  ground." 

As  he  was  marched  toward  the  little  engine-house,  his  guard, 
Ashby,  muttered  : 

"  Dat  man  up  de  street  is  dead  ;  I  heard  'em  say  so  !  Mosster 
Quantrell,  what  mus'  I  do  ?  " 

"  Get  across  that  bridge,  Ashby,  as  soon  as  you  can  !  Go  past 
Sandy  Hook  and  cross  the  big  mountain  into  Catoctin  Valley.  Find 
Jake  Bosler's  farm,  and  say  you  came  from  me,  and  give  my  love  to 
little  Katy." 

•'  Dey'U  kill  me,  won't  dey  ?  " 


THE   SUCK. 


153 


"  If  you  stay  here,  you  are  sure  to  be  killed.  This  place  is  the 
Suck,  and  takes  everything  to  the  bottom." 

Entering  the  watch-house  again,  Quantrell  found  it  uncomfort- 
ably full,  and  some  of  the  occupants  were  complaining  of  thirst  and 
fatigue  and  hunger.  Almost  every  moment  some  new  prisoner  was 
brought  in,  and  those  previously  confined  scanned  the  new-comer's 
person  or  timidly  listened  to  the  few  who  had  volatility  enough  to 
talk. 

"  What  do  you  think  they  mean  to  do  with  us.  Colonel  Wash- 
ington }  "  asked  the  young  Baltimorean. 

"  Ah— sah  !  "  The  gentleman  spoke  with  such  circumspection 
that  Quantrell  with  asperity  said  : 

"  Sir,  our  situation  levels  distinctions.  You  should  play  the  man 
here,  and  your  suspicions  of  your  fellow-prisoners  are  unworthy.  It 
is  your  own  State,  your  native  county,  that  is  invaded.  I  ask  you 
for  your  ideas  in  our  common  emergency." 

The  gentleman  replied,  with  subdued  effort : 

"  Nothing  in  Brown's  history  is  against  my  conviction  that  he 
will  kill  us  all,  sah.  I  have  been  searching  my  poor,  breakfastless 
mind,  to  recollect  what  I  can  of  his  past  in  Kansas.  I  feel  sure, 
sah,  that  this  is  the  same  man  who,  the  day  after  the  abolition  set- 
tlement of  Lawrence  was  destroyed,  took  four  of  his  sons  and  one 
son-in-law,  and  grinding  their  sabers  sharp  as  butcher-knives,  they 
entered  a  slaveholder's  dwelling,  sah,  and  took  a  father  and  two  sons 
out  of  there  prisoners ;  and  this  old  man  shot  the  father  dead,  and 
his  boys — the  same,  no  doubt,  whom  we  see  around  this  engine- 
house — hacked  the  victim's  sons  to  pieces  with  their  sabers.  The 
same  night  the  old  man  set  his  sons  upon  two  other  men,  who  had 
been  captured  in  their  beds,  and  saw  them  cut  down  with  as  much 
indifference  as  a  wolf.  The  very  abolitionists  in  Kansas  denounced 
such  barbarity.  Brown  was  then  accused  of  meditating  the  massa- 
cre of  the  Kansas  State  Convention  which  was  enacting  a  Constitu- 
tion. He  had  previously  fought  two  victorious  actions  with  the 
slave-State  settlers,  and,  being  outlawed  there,  he  invaded  Missouri 
and  ran  off  mules  and  slaves,  sah.  The  mules  he  sold  in  Ohio  at 
public  auction,  and  the  Yankees  there,  sah,  bought  them  because 
stolen.  The  slaves  he  stole  there,  may  be  in  this  robber  army  to- 
night, sah." 

No  rage  was  in  this  statement,  but  a  memory  barely  struggling 
above  despair,  and  the  revelation  increased  the  doubt,  and  therefore 


54 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIiV. 


the  numb  dread,  in  Lloyd  Quantrell's  mind.  He  asked  himself  if 
Watson  and  Oliver  Brown  could  have  done  such  wonders. 

"  Colonel,"  he  whispered,  "  surely  we  can  fight  for  our  lives  ?  " 

"  Ah — sah  !  "  the  inoffensive,  hale,  but  broken  man  replied,  "  we 
are  like  butchers'  calves,  sah.  What  I  saw  when  taken  from  my 
bed,  sah,  convinced  me  I  was  valuable  for  nothing  but  my  slaves 
and  the  slaughter,  sah." 

"  Nobody  drinkin'  }  "  spoke  old  Watty,  the  bar-keeper,  among  the 
crowd.  "  I  reckon  I'll  turn  the  lights  down.  They  has  to  be  paid 
for !  Sherry  cobblaw  .'*  Brandy  toddy  ?  Fi'penny-bit ! — fi'penny- 
bit ! " 

"  Watty !  Watty !  you  forgit  you're  tuk.  You're  off  of  your 
Amertcamis,  Watty !  See  all  our  neighbors  comin'  to  call  on  us 
—all  tuk !  " 

"  All  but  ole  Ball !  "  echoed  a  few  faint  and  tired  voices.  "  What 
will  ole  Ball  say  ?  " 

"  Ole  Ball  '11  say,  '  Who  didn't  ring  that  bell  accordin'  to  my 
orders?'  That's  what  ole  Ball  '11  say.  Then  I'll  be  clar  off  my 
Amerz'camis  /  " 

There  came  floating  down  the  gray  and  sharp  October  morning 
a  sound  like  musical  vibration.  The  whine  of  a  dog  seemed  to  pro- 
test against  it. 

"  Hark  ! "  spoke  the  bell-ringer.  "  Has  Captain  Brown  dared  to 
ring  my  bell }  I've  had  the  doin'  of  it  so  many  years,  to  let  another 
do  it  seems  like  as  if  I  was  dead  and  heard  my  funeral-bell." 

With  another  hesitation  and  twanging,  like  some  tender  bird 
clearing  its  glottis  of  the  mist,  a  bell  directly  above  them  began  to 
ring,  and  through  the  vales  its  strong  and  steady  tones  vvent  art- 
lessly, in  no  imperious  command,  but  mellow  invitation,  as  if  a  cage 
of  linnets  had  awakened  full-throated  and  tried  their  hearts  in 
song. 

"  It's  the  Catholic  church,"  the  bell-ringer  said.  ' '  It's  the  angelus 
they're  ringing  for  the  workmen's  early  mass." 

The  sound  of  murmured  prayers  was  heard  among  some  of  the 
humbler  prisoners.  Lloyd  Quantrell  called  aloud  the  words  of  morn- 
ing prayer  as  he  remembered  them  at  school : 

" '  Gratiam  tuam  qnceswnus  Doniine  f  Pour  down  Thy  grace 
into  our  souls  ! '  " 

"  Amen  !  "  in  whispers  filled  the  little  place. 

" '  As  we  have  known  the  incarnation  of  Christ  Thy  Son,  by  the 


THE   SUCK. 


155 


message  of  an  angel,  so  may  we  come  to  the  glory  of  the  resurrec- 
tion.    Per  eundem  Christuin  dominum  nostrum  /  '  " 

"  Amen  !  " 

The  bell  hesitated  again,  continued  on  a  stroke  or  more,  and 
then  a  shot  was  fired. 

The  bell  stopped,  trembling;  a  dog  stopped  howling,  too. 

Watty,  the  bar-keeper,  burst  into  tears. 

Tears  came  to  many  others  at  his  example.  Their  depressed 
feelings,  violent  superstitions,  uncertainty,  and  fainting  hunger,  had 
prepared  all  for  some  sudden  burst  of  agony,  and  the  little  Christian 
prayer  had  touched  all  hearts. 

"  Watty's  off  of  his  Americanus,"  the  bell-ringer  cried,  coming 
forward,  a  sob  upon  his  voice.    "  Pore  Watty  !    He  wants  his  dram." 

"  I  try  to 'commodate  you  all,  "the  old  bar-keeper  moaned;  "sorry 
I  can't  please  none  of  you  !     Pay  me  off  and  let  me  go  ! " 

His  aged  face  and  straggling  hairs,  vacant  countenance,  and  in- 
offensive village  ways,  touched  everybody.  The  bell-ringer  wrapped 
him  in  his  arms,  shed  his  tears  upon  the  old  vagrant  head,  and 
seemed  himself  about  to  lose  his  homely  self-restraint. 

"  Who  broke  the  bell  ?  "  articulated  Watty.  "  I  can't  hear  none 
of  'em.  They's  a-callin'  for  orders,  and  I  can't  tell.  Only  let  me 
hyur  you,  an'  I'll  do  my  juty.     Fi'penny-bit !— fi'penny-bit !  " 

The  bell-ringer,  himself  an  aged  man,  but  of  some  simple  decision 
of  character,  here  threw  himself  against  the  watch-house  door. 

"  You  le'  me  out !  "  he  shouted.  "  I'm  most  'off  of  my  America- 
nus,  and  I'm  not  desponsible.  I  don't  own  no  slave.  I  ain't  done 
no  harm.  Shoot,  if  you  want  to.  But  this  pore  man's  got  to  have 
his  dram  !  " 

"  Jimmy !  Jimmy  !  "  the  bar-keeper  muttered,  nearly  brought  to 
reason  by  his  friend's  exposure.  "  Don't  take  no  account  at  'em. 
They  fights  as  soon  as  they  gets  a  little  pizened. — Never  mind  yo' 
money,  friends  !    Go  out  peaceable.     Go,  go  !  " 

As  the  guard  opened  the  door,  Quantrell's  dog  rushed  in,  and 
with  a  yell  of  pain — for  Smith  or  Brown,  the  bandit  leader,  kicked 
him,  passing,  and  entered,  himself  looking  poorly. 

"  Who  is  it  making  confusion  here  ?  Citizens,  this  is  no  child's 
play.  Two  men  are  dead  already— one  for  not  obeying  orders,  and 
the  other  for  carrying  a  weapon." 

"  I  ain't  got  no  weapon,  but  I've  got  a  heart ! " — the  bell-ringer 
alone  had  the  courage  to  speak  in  his  fierce  captor's  face.     "  Cap- 


156 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN 


tain,  there's  men  here  who  want  their  food.  They  ain't  used  to 
hollow  stummicks," 

"  Every  man  who  can  send  me  a  colored  person  for  a  recruit,  I 
will  discharge,"  the  leader  said,  like  one  of  business  propositions, 
fixing  one  grayish-green  eye  upon  the  bell-ringer,  and  the  other 
doing  the  summarizing. 

The  perfect  daylight  revealed  him  now,  tired  after  the  night's 
exertions,  wiry,  with  one  eye  preoccupied  and  the  other  like  a  fisher- 
bird's,  the  nose  vulturous,  and  the  mouth  as  hard  as  intense  opinion- 
atedness  and  severe  reflection  could  make  it  in  man. 

He  had  his  arms  beneath  his  old  coat-tails,  and  his  cap  con- 
cealed there  ;  and  his  unkempt  hair  flamed  up  like  a  beacon  in 
ashes ;  and  the  fleece  of  gray  and  white  beard  made  a  blossom  like 
a  snow-ball  to  his  breast-bone.  Without  an  ornament  but  the  dress 
sword-hilt  of  a  king — no  seals,  no  watch,  no  watch-guard,  not  even 
a  pistol  now — John  Brown  seemed  terrible  by  his  simplicity  and  in- 
difference. 

Unconstrained,  natural,  yet  wild  ;  not  entirely  sane  in  the  expres- 
sion of  his  eyes ;  deliberate  but  unfeeling,  ready  to  become  domestic 
or  dreadful,  like  a  house-cat  to  take  a  fit,  he  measured  them  all  as  if 
he  was  ransoming  sheep. 

All  felt  that  he  could  toss  them  back  like  lambs  to  their  pens  if 
they  sought  to  assail  or  evade  him.  His  whole  dress  a  slop-shop 
might  have  rejected  ;  but  the  stringy  frame  within  it,  and  lean,  bushy 
head,  at  once  patriarchal  and  animal,  gave  him  the  sense  of  some 
Calvinistic  wolf — a  savage  qualified  by  theology. 

"  My  blood,"  said  this  apparition,  in  a  metallic,  commercial  voice, 
"is  precious  to  me — tolerably  so."  He  paused,  as  if  reflecting  just 
how  much  it  might  be  worth.  "Your  blood  I  do  not  desire." 
They  felt  a  dread  come  over  them  as  if  it  were  merely  want  of  appe- 
tite that  retarded  his  meal.  "  But  you  are  my  hostages  for  the  of- 
fenses of  your  disobedient  neighbors,  who  have  broken  the  laws  of 
God.  This  is  war !  I  mean  nothing  but  right.  But  I  mean  all  I 
came  here  for." 

Quantrell's  chilled  spirit  recalled  the  curse  of  Hannah  Ritner, 
not  twenty  hours  elapsed  :  "  I  see  the  rivers  flowing  red.  Escape  ye 
can  not ! " 

"You  may  be  a  great  man,"  said  the  bell-ringer,  not  unim- 
pressed, "  and  have  your  idees,  but  an  empty  stummick  is  a  cruel 
neighbor.     It'll  make  a  baby  cry  of  a  night.     It'll  make  a  wild  beast 


THE   SUCK. 


157 


go  catch  food  for  its  young  at  any  peril.  It'll  do  more  than  that  " — 
the  bell-ringer  dropped  his  voice  to  produce  the  full,  pathetic  effect 
— "  it'll  make  a  nateral  being  go  off  of  his  Aviericanus  !  " 

He  put  his  hand  on  Watty's  forehead,  and  Watty  advanced  to- 
ward John  Brown  unsteadily  and  placating : 

"  Drink  with  the  house  !  "  he  said.  "  Guarantee  everything — to 
come  out  of  the  same  bar'l.  He-he  !  Medford  rum  !  Parson's  flip  ! 
Raw  egg  an'  hell-fire  !     He-he  ! " 

"  There's  a  picture  of  slavery,"  said  John  Brown — "  the  slavery  of 
alcohol." 

"  I'm  one  of  'em,"  another  prisoner  cried,  coming  forward.  "  Ef 
you  doan  le'  me  go  git  my  dram,  I'll  take  the  rams  an'  git  shot  fight- 
in'  somebody." 

His  red  eyes  and  unsteady  hands  told  that  his  apprehensions 
were  real. 

"  I  can  set  slaves  free  and  take  them  far  from  their  masters," 
John  Brown  remarked,  looking  at  the  two  men  like  a  magistrate 
sentencing  some  vagrants ;  his  great  mouth  was  firm,  but  his  eyes 
had  a  little  thoughtful  pity  mixed  with  their  contempt.  "  Slaves  of 
vile  habits  no  man  can  set  free.  The  thing  these  two  men  serve  " — 
he  looked  over  the  crowd — "  whips  and  kicks  them,  even  in  their 
sleep,  and  then  they  go  and  whip  and  kick  their  unfortunate  fellow- 
men  !  Go  with  him  " — he  addressed  the  bell-ringer — "  and  order 
breakfast  for  me  for  twenty  men.  I  parole  you  to  proceed  to  the 
hotel  for  that  purpose.  If  the  breakfasts  are  not  sent,  my  army  will 
hold  you  responsible  when  we  take  you  again. — As  for  you,"  turn- 
ing to  the  second  toper,  "  go  home,  but  do  not  stop  to  poison  your- 
self any^vhere  on  the  way." 

Quantrell  had  a  peep  of  this  proceeding,  and  saw  the  bell-ringer 
turn  his  eyes  toward  the  bell-station  and  move  that  way,  till  a  sentry 
turned  him  off.  He  shook  his  head  disconsolately,  but  took  old 
Watty's  hand. 

"  Cap'n,"  Watty  said  to  John  Brown,  "  I'll  mix  you  a  Caner  of 
Galilee  :  sodee  an'  hock  an'  ole  Sassaurek !  Then  you'll  feel  so 
good,  you  won't  shoot  nobody.     He-he  !  " 

The  lines  of  the  invading  "  army,"  as  Captain  Brown  had  named 
it,  were  now  perfectly  formed.  There  was  a  guard  on  the  armory 
green,  another  at  the  yard-top,  a  third  at  the  gate,  and  men  were 
upon  the  bridge.  Brown  himself  went  with  the  hostages  to  the 
public  street  and  conferred  with  sentinels  in  the  two  arsenal  build- 


158 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIX. 


ings  opposite.  Shots  were  heard  occasionally  in  the  upper  town,  as 
if  citizens  might  be  firing  old  loads  from  their  guns  or  making  ready 
for  resistance. 

The  breakfasts  were  brought  over  from  the  hotel,  and  Brown 
invited  the  prisoners  to  partake  thereof  in  the  engine-house ;  but 
some  nervous  skeptic  whispered  that  it  might  be  poisoned  food,  and 
only  a  few,  among  whom  was  Quantrell,  took  advantage  of  the  re- 
quest. John  Brown  bowed  his  head  before  he  ate,^and  seemed  to  be 
asking  a  blessing  upon  his  meal.  Albion,  seeking  to  steal  a  piece 
of  fried  ham,  ran  against  the  great  bandit's  claws,  and  was  thrown 
toward  the  yard,  but  slipped  over  the  old  man's  arm  and  ran  beneath 
one  of  the  engines,  where  he  howled  dismally. 

His  meal  being  done,  Quantrell  asked  permission  to  remain  in 
the  engine-room,  w-hich  contained  no  other  prisoners.  John  Brown 
made  no  answer,  but  went  off  to  inspect  his  posts. 

Quantrell  began  to  think  of  Katy  in  Catoctin  Valley,  of  Light 
Pittson  in  Washington,  of  his  mother  in  her  grave,  and  of  the  new 
and  solemn  feelings  which  had  impelled  him  to  intone  a  portion  of 
a  public  prayer. 

"  Am  I  infirm  in  my  affections  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  "  I  feel  no 
guilt.  Till  Sunday  I  never  was  in  love ;  no  ladies'  man  have  I  ever 
been.  Yet  I  seemed  to  make  a  conquest  of  the  senator's  daughter 
as  easily  as  of  Katy.     What  do  I  mean  ?  " 

He  found  the  pointer-dog  insidiously  climbing  upon  him,  and 
drowsiness  was  in  his  brain  ;  so  he  drew  the  dog  to  a  place  beneath 
a  fire-engine,  and,  crawling  there  upon  some  leather  harness  and 
blankets,  fell  asleep. 

A  loud  discharge  of  guns,  so  close  that  they  seemed  to  have 
been  fired  at  the  engine-house  door,  awoke  Quantrell,  and  he  rushed 
against  the  door  and  into  the  armory-yard,  unconscious  for  a  mo- 
ment of  his  whereabout.  Nobody  paid  any  attention  to  him  in  the 
yard,  and  the  guards  there  were  crouching  behind  the  stone  gate- 
posts and  handling  their  pieces  as  if  to  kill  some  expected  foe.  Avail- 
ing himself  of  the  confusion,  the  young  man  ran  across  the  open 
plaza  and  along  the  railroad  side  of  the  yard,  until  he  could  look  over 
the  iron  railing  and  up  into  the  town,  by  the  Shenandoah  street. 

He  saw  nothing  but  blowing  smoke  in  front  of  some  high  brick 
stores,  and  an  object  fallen  in  the  street,  and  feebly  moving.  In  an- 
other instant  the  object  was  still. 

The  smell  of  brimstone  was  in  the  air.     The  streets  were  per- 


THE   SUCK. 


59 


fectly  deserted  except  by  dogs,  which  were  smelling  and  snapping  at 
the  fallen  object — his  own  dog  the  most  forward  and  conspicuous. 

While  Quantrell  looked,  a  rifle  sounded  from  one  of  the  bridges 
he  could  not  see,  and  a  piece  of  brick,  or  lead,  or  splinter  seemed  to 
fly  from  the  front  of  one  of  the  tall  houses  in  line  with  the  armory- 
gate.  In  a  moment  the  front  of  this  house  flashed  smoke  and  fire, 
as  if  several  guns  had  been  shot  off  together.  From  the  bridge 
and  the  stone  g^te-piers,  shots  went  responsive  against  the  con- 
cealed enemy  in  the  house. 

Quantrell  distinctly  noted  a  difference  in  the  quality  of  sound  of 
the  opposing  guns. 

"Breech-loaders,"  he  thought,  "against  the  muskets  of  Harper's 
Ferry.     The  Virginians  have  got  arms." 

He  noticed  that  no  store  in  the  village  had  opened  its  windows, 
though  the  sun  was  coming  over  the  tall  Loudoun  Heights,  some 
hours  high.  As  he  looked  at  this  sun,  the  crows,  flying  around  the 
chimneys  of  Loudoun  Mountain,  arrested  his  attention,  and  he 
thought  of  the  black  man  Newby's  saying,  that  not  a  black  crow 
was  in  those  rocks  but  would  fight  for  its  young. 

"  My  God  !  "  spoke  Quantrell,  slowly,  seeking  with  his  eyes  the 
object  fallen  in  the  street  again,  "  I  know  that  man  lying  yonder. 
It  is  a  mulatto.     It  is  Newby  himself ! " 

Obeying  an  impulse  of  mingled  mercy  and  horror,  Lloyd  Quan- 
trell vaulted  over  a  broken  angle  in  the  brick  wall,  and,  with  both 
hands  raised  higher  than  his  head,  he  ran  along  the  public  street, 
exposed  to  the  concealed  marksmen  from  either  side,  but  barely 
conscious  of  their  existence.  A  few  shots,  fired  from  the  heights 
around  the  Catholic  church,  rattled  along  the  limestone  crossings 
and  macadamized  roadway  and  rebounded  from  the  sloping  traps  of 
cellar-ways.  The  golden  cross  above  the  Roman  chapel  seemed 
also  extending  its  arms  in  the  truce  of  heavenly  intercession  and 
flaming  with  perturbed  light. 

He  reached  the  fallen  object ;  it  was  a  human  creature,  tumbled 
with  gun  in  hand,  and  belted  round  with  other  carnal  weapons,  but 
helpless  as  a  turtle  upon  its  back.  Quantrell  knelt  and  spoke  the 
sufferer's  name ;  a  terrible  wound  was  in  his  neck,  out  of  which  the 
blood  was  gushing. 

"  Newby,  can't  you  get  up  }  " 

"  Cap'n  Brown  called  me,"  the  pale  lips  muttered.  "  I  had  to 
be  a  man." 


l6o  KATY   OF  CATOCTIiV. 

Feet  and  chin  stiffened  together,  and  the  first  victim  on  either 
side  had  been  a  black  crow  fighting  for  its  young. 

Quantrell  took  up  the  negro  soldier's  rifle : 

"  '  Poor  devil !  "  he  said  ;  "  Harper's  Ferry  is  turning  out  to  be  a 
'  suck.'  " 


CHAPTER   XVn. 
ashby's  gratitude. 

Whistling  bullets  past  Quantrell's  head  recalled  him  to  some 
preserving  fear.  Looking  down  toward  the  armory-gate,  he  saw  a 
negro  from  the  arsenal  leveling  a  piece  at  him,  and  the  ball  grazed 
his  hair. 

Quantrell  retreated  up  the  hill  street,  called  High  Street,  and 
while  he  turned  his  head  to  see  if  he  was  followed,  his  feet  stumbled 
upon  something  soft,  and  he  was  thrown  to  the  sidewalk  beside  a 
sleeping  man.  Scrambling  up  and  seeing  that  the  man  did  not 
move,  Quantrell  touched  him  and  found  him  cold. 

"  Oh,  bring  him  in ! "  a  voice  whispered  from  a  neighboring 
grocery ;  "  the  Mexicans  shot  hini  there  the  matther  of  two  hours 
ago.  and  we're  afraid  to  walk  in  the  strate ;  fur  they  fires  at  avery- 
body." 

A  gun,  thrown  down  in  the  shock  of  being  wounded,  lay  beside 
this  man,  and  showed  that  he  had  gone  forth  to  kill.  He  looked  to 
be  a  herculean  Irishman. 

"  This  is  the  man  that  yonder  Newby  killed,  no  doubt,"  thought 
Quantrell ;  and,  as  he  sought  to  lift  the  bulky  and  heavy  form,  he 
felt  himself  seized  and  being  dragged  away. 

Through  an  alley-way  nearly  opposite,  which  descended  the 
slope  into  an  almost  unoccupied  lane,  right  under  the  engine-house 
and  wall,  his  captors  bore  him  fiercely  with  firm  hands  and  silent 
purpose,  and  he  made  no  resistance  whatever,  considering  that  he 
had  no  arms  and  had  sought  to  harm  no  man. 

From  various  garrets,  whose  dormer  windows  partly  com- 
manded this  lane,  the  popping  of  guns  came  momentarily  and 
tore  up  the  dirt  around  them,  and  scarred  the  long  government 
wall.  A  church-bell  somewhere  up  in  the  town  began  to  ring  an 
alarm,  and  over  a  broken  place  in  the  wall,  some  way  ahead,  a  few 


ASIIBY'S  GRATITUDE. 


I6l 


men  carrying  something  weighty  emerged  and  fired  their  pistols  at 
Quantrell's  abductors.  The  latter  shook  Ciuantrell  loose,  but  kept 
him  between  themselves  and  the  enemy,  and  began  to  fire  their 
short,  breech-loading  guns. 

Lloyd  saw  that  his  captors  were  both  negroes,  and  under  hicrh 
excitement.  '^ 

The  fleeing  white  men  made  little  response  to  the  guns  of  these 
negroes,  but  continued  to  bear  off  their  burden ;  and  among  them 
Quantrell  thought  he  recognized  the  young  planter,  Beall,  and  the 
pale  and  frowsy  Atzerodt. 

"Git  ova  yer.  or  we'll  kill  you  in  de  road  ! "  gasped  one  of  these 
black  men. 

"  Git  over !  "  echoed  the  other,  giving  Quantrell  a  painful  blow 
with  the  butt  of  his  carbine. 

They  forced  him  across  a  picket-fence  and  up  a  slope,  in  a  little 
garden  or  hog-yard,  and  near  the  top  of  this  acclivity  was  a  mighty 
rock  which  had  been  walled  up  below  by  human  hands  and  made  a 
cave  or  cellar  for  some  adjacent  house.  Into  this  all  three  retreated 
from  the  bullets,  which  began  to  come  from  ever)^where. 

The  negroes,  taking  breath  a  moment,  turned  on  Quantrell. 
"Come,"  said  a  supple  fellow  named  Green,  "you  got  to  die 
man ! " 

He  drew  his  gun  and  raised  it. 

"  What .?  "  cried  Quantrell.     "  Kill  me  !    What  have  I  done  }  " 
"  You  are  a  soul-buyer  an'  a  slave-trader !  " 
"  You  keeps  a  slave-pen  and  sells  men  like  me  !  "  the  other  ne- 
gro, who  had  been  called  Copeland,  exclaimed,  with  no  less  sullen 
ferocity.     "  We  know  you,  an'  you  got  to  die  for  our  brother  New- 
by  !  " 

Copeland  raised  his  gun  also.  The  despair  of  death  fell  upon 
Quantrell's  soul. 

"  For  Christ's  dear  sake,  men,  don't  murder  me  !  You  are  under 
a  mistake.     My  uncle  is  in  that  business— not  I." 

He  had  literally  fallen  upon  his  knees.  The  sense  of  dyino-  in 
that  cave,  of  moldering  in  such  a  sty,  of  being  hideously  cut  off  in 
youth  and  bloom  and  happy  love,  made  him  beg  like  a  child.  The 
pugilist's  bravado  failed  him  in  this  test  of  death. 

"  De  boot's  on  de  oder  leg,"  Copeland  continued,  while  Quan- 
trell grasped  the  carbine  and  turned  it  aside  ;  "it's  no  harder  fo'you 
to  die  than  fo'  Newby,  shot  fo"  his  childern  !  " 


1 62  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  I  have  never  bought  a  slave,  never  sold  one  !  "  Ouantrell  gasped  ; 
"  all  my  slaves  are  inherited,  all  well  treated.  Don't  bring  this 
blood  upon  your  hands  !  " 

"  No  man's  well  treated  with  his  liberty  and  wages  took  away," 
the  negro  Green  exclaimed,  his  rifle  at  Quantrell's  head.  "  We've 
all  got  to  die  here.     Your  life  for  Newby's  !     Say  your  prayers  ! " 

"  Nothin'  kin  save  you,"  Copeland  spoke,  his  gun  at  Quantrell's 
heart ;  "  we  made  up  our  minds,  when  you  said  yo'  family  sold  men, 
to  kill  you  if  one  of  us  died,  and  Newby's  gone  to  heaven.     Come  !  " 

At  that  cold  word,  so  blank  yet  dreadful,  '  Come  ! '  Quantrell's 
heart  and  brain  seemed  to  swoon.  He  said  the  Catholic  names  of 
"Jesus,  Mary,  and  Joseph,"  and  threw  himself  with  arms  outspread, 
like  the  cross  he  surrendered  his  life  to,  upon  his  face  and  on  the 
floor  of  that  foul  cave. 

The  sound  of  both  carbines  exploding  made  him  await  in  cold 
awe  the  torments  of  some  wounds.  He  felt  nothing ;  but  feet  were 
treading  upon  him,  as  if  men  were  wrestling. 

"  I  pushed  yo'  guns  up.  Is  he  dead  ?  De  Lord  fo'give 
you ! " 

Raising  his  face  at  this  strange  voice,  Quantrell  saw  a  fourth  man 
in  the  cave  contending  with  his  enemies. 

This  man  had  a  negro's  face,  but  he  seemed  so  bright  and  radi- 
ant in  Quantrell's  eyes,  that  the  cry  of  Nebuchadnezzar  appeared  to 
be  ringing  in  that  rocky  furnace  :  "  Lo  !  I  see  four  men  loose,  walk- 
ing in  the  midst  of  the  fire,  and  they  have  no  hurt ;  and  the  form  of 
the  fourth  is  like  the  Son  of  God  ! " 

"  Dat  man  didn't  do  no  black  man  harm,"  said  a  voice;  "  dat 
man's  de  black  man's  friend.  He  fought  fo'  me.  He  give  me 
money  to  git  away  wid.     He's  a  kine  man  !  " 

As  this  voice  spoke,  a  piece  of  gold  flashed  in  his  hand— the 
evidence  of  Quantrell's  kindness. 

"He's  gone  dead,"  spoke  the  negro  Copeland.  "O  Green! 
may  be  we's  killed  a  good  friend." 

"  Ain't  he  no  soul-seller  ?  "  answered  Green.    "  It's  a  pity,  then." 

They  gathered  around  Quantrell's  outstretched  form. 

"  Po'  man  ! "  said  Ashby,  the  new  arrival,  feelingly  ;  "  de  on'y 
kine  words  I  got,  in  de  Ian'  whavv  I  was  raised,  dis  man  said  to 
me.     Lord,  raise  him  fo'  me  !  " 

Quantrell  raised  his  head. 

The  colored  men  looked  down  wonderingly. 


ASHBY'S  GRATITUDE. 


163 


"  Prayer,  brother !  "  said  Green  to  Ashby ;  "see  how  it's  an- 
swered ! " 

"Raise  him,  Lord  ! "  cried  Ashby,  loudly,  in  the  ecstasy  of  relig- 
ious superstition. 

"  Raise  him  !  Raise  him.  Lord  !  "  the  late  assassins  repeated 
fervently. 

Quantrell  arose,  pale  as  a  ghost,  and  for  a  moment  speechless. 
He  leaned  upon  all  their  hands.     They  watched  him  like  a  spirit. 

Nothing  but  gratitude  was  in  his  heart,  and  he  felt  like  giving 
thanks  even  to  his  murderers,  so  violently  had  human  power  been 
transferred  in  a  few  hours  from  white  man  to  negro. 

"  Ashby,  you  turned  their  guns  aside.     I  am  not  hurt." 

"Come,  den,"  Ashby  shouted,  "we's  mos'  surrounded.  De 
gate's  held  open  for  us  a  minute.     Come  !  " 

Quantrell  and  the  three  negroes  dashed  down  the  slope,  and  a 
wooden  gate  in  the  side-wall  was  held  ajar.  As  they  entered  it, 
bullets  came  from  old  stone  walls  and  hanging  galleries,  from  garret- 
windows  and  from  pig-pens. 

They  were  in  the  armory-yard,  and  the  gate  shut  fast  behind 
them,  before  they  had  been  well  discovered. 

"  Here,"  said  the  voice  of  John  Brown  as  they  reached  the  engine- 
house,  "  you  men  are  just  in  time.  I  want  some  loop-holes  picked 
in  these  brick  walls." 

As  the  sounds  of  the  implements  in  the  brick  masonry  and  of 
guns  of  different  kinds  made  the  place  far  from  tranquil,  Quantrell 
asked  himself  how  many  of  these  bandits  there  might  be  ;  though  he 
had  hardly  seen  twenty  in  all,  they  acted  as  if  they  were  an  army. 

"  What  is  this  thing  of  slavery  .'*  "  Quantrell  questioned  of  a 
somewhat  depressed  but  not  despairing  man,  whose  only  crime  in 
John  Brown's  eyes  had  been  slaves. 

"  You  mean  its  value  in  property  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  strength  or  weakness  of  it.  I  never  asked  before,  and 
now  see,  for  the  first  time,  that  it  is  the  question  of  questions." 

"  In  Virginia,"  said  the  farmer,  "  we  have  about  five  hundred 
thousand  slaves — half  as  many  souls  as  the  whites  of  Virginia." 

"  Souls,"  thought  Quantrell,  and  added,  "you  mean  that  many 
head,  not  souls." 

"  Wills,  anyway,"  the  farmer  replied,  "  if  what  we  see  to-night 
is  representative.  Maryland  has  ninety  thousand  slaves  and  nearly 
as  many  free  blacks,  or  say  two  fifths  of  all  her—" 


164 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"Souls,"  Ouantrell  finished  ;  "we  mean  head." 

"  I  had  rather  have  souls  into  them  to-day,"  the  farmer  remarked, 
"  for  their  soul-fear  is  what  may  save  our  lives." 

"  That's  true,"  Quantrell  noted  ;  "a  nigger  is  a  religious  animal. 
But  what  is  the  extent  of  the  slavery  in  all  this  American  Republic 
which  John  Brown  has  rushed  against  .-* " 

"Four  millions  at  least." 

"  Worth—?  " 

"  Oh,  a  thousand  million  dollars,  I  reckon.  Twice  that,  unless 
this  fellow  gets  up  a  black  insurrection." 

"  Has  slavery  been  growing.?  " 

"  Yes  ;  seventy  years  ago  we  hadn't  but  seven  hundred  thousand 
in  the  country.  They're  growing  three  quarters  to  a  million  every 
ten  years.  We're  pore  with  'em,  and  pore  without  'em.  Less  than 
thirty  year  ago  Virginia  was  half  minded  to  give  slavery  up,  but 
Missouri  and  Texas  got  into  the  Union  as  slave  States,  and  it  be- 
come too  profitable  to  let  the  thing  go.  This  man's  raid  to-day 
cuts  down  the  value  of  my  niggers  from  a  thousand  dollars  apiece 
to  six  or  seven  hundred." 

"  Ditto  !  "  Quantrell  remarked.  "  Yet  I  have  seen  times  in  these 
few  hours  when  it  would  have  been  cheap  to  me  to  give  up  every 
slave." 

"  Dreadful  times !"  the  captive  planter  moaned.  "I  don't  see 
why  they  may  not  as  well  kill  us  as  outrage  us  in  this  way ;  my 
stomach  is  in  torture." 

"Here,  drink  from  my  flask,"  the  young  man  said ;  "don't  show 
it,  for  there's  not  enough  to  go  round,  and  we  may  want  it  yet 
for—" 

"Our  wounds,"  replied  the  planter.  "Sir,  these  men  are 
demons.  W^hen  they  took  me,  they  had  studied  my  house  till 
they  knew  every  hole  and  corner  of  it." 

"  They  come  in  hyur,"  spoke  another  person,  "  just  befo'  the 
armory  watch  changed,  and  so  they  tuk  everybody.  That  little  Cook 
sot  it  all  up.  We  suspected  him  from  the  quare  people  that  come 
to  his  mother-in-law's  up  yer  on  Union  Street.  He  totched  a 
school — " 

"  Taught  it  ?  "  questioned  Ouantrell. 

"  Yes,  totched  our  academy  school  up  hyur  by  the  Shinandoh, 
and,  of  cose,  he  picked  out  of  the  childern  all  about  the  comin'  and 
goin'." 


ASIIBYS  GRATITUDE.  165 

As  this  man  ended,  Lloyd  observed  that  one  of  the  late  slaves 
of  Mr.  Washington  had  just  opened  daylight  in  the  brick  wall,  and 
suddenly  a  leaden  ball  from  outside  struck  this  spot  and  came 
within  a  hair's  breadth  of  Isaac  Smith  and  dropped  into  Quantrell's 
hand,  rebounding  from  the  wall  behind  him. 

"  Here  it  is,  Captain  Brown,"  Quantrell  said ;  "  it's  so  hot  I 
can't  hold  it." 

"  Yo'  kin  pick  away  fur  yo'self !  "  exclaimed  the  frightened  negro, 
dropping  his  tool ;  "  I'll  do  no  mo'  of  it." 

As  the  negro  slunk  under  the  engine,  his  dreams  of  liberty  de- 
parted, young  Coppock  took  up  the  tool  and  began  to  widen  the  loop- 
hole. Two  holes  were  thus  made  and  manned,  and  balls  came  almost 
momentarily  in  the  place.  Some  of  the  captives  shrank,  and  others 
quietly  looked  at  each  other  to  give  or  take  courage.  The  engine- 
house  door  was  kept  ajar,  and  just  outside  of  it  the  young  marks- 
men, black  or  white,  replied  with  their  rifles  to  every  enemy.  Quan- 
trell now  realized  that  Smith  or  Brown  was  at  least  twenty  years 
the  senior  of  every  recruit  he  possessed. 

"  Is  he  a  childish  man  to  lead  these  boys,"  thought  Quantrell, 
"  or  are  these  boys  manful  as  himself,  to  seek  such  danger  }  " 

Through  the  large  round  windows  near  the  ceiling  the  balls 
would  come,  ever  and  anon,  making  the  brick-dust  fly,  or  glinting 
fire  upon  the  metal  of  the  engine;  yet  not  a  person  within  was 
struck,  and  old  Brown  paid  no  more  attention  to  these  balls  than  if 
they  had  been  of  paper  and  thrown  at  a  schoolmaster.  Sometimes 
his  look  was  anxious,  and  he  asked  a  subordinate  once  why  his  re- 
enforcements  did  not  come.  Finally,  his  son,  Watson  Brown,  came 
in,  with  a  blanched  look,  and  sank  down  upon  his  hams,  speech- 
lessly. 

"  My  son,  are  you  wounded  ?  "  the  old  man  questioned. 

"  I  think  I'm  hit,"  said  Watson  Brown,  whose  skin  had  become 
the  color  of  white  dust  in  the  street.     "  I  feel  queer,  father." 

Quantrell  had  already  opened  the  young  man's  coat  and  re- 
moved his  accoutrements.  He  found  a  perforation  in  his  garment, 
and  blood,  and  passed  his  hand  around  the  lad's  body.  W^atson 
Brown  seemed  to  have  swooned,  for  he  said : 

"  Is  that  you.  Bell  ?     Oh,  let  me  see  the  little  fellow  !  " 

"  Wake  up,  Watson ! "  Quantrell  spoke ;  "  it's  only  a  skin- 
wound.  There's  no  hole  in  you.  Taste  this  whisky  and  you'll 
be  strong." 


1 66  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Watson  Brown  pushed  the  flask  away.  His  face  slowly  flushed 
up. 

"  Not  shot  }"  he  spoke  ;  "  no  bad  wound  ?     Give  me  my  gun  !  " 

He  was  up,  the  blood  warm  again  in  his  hopeful  face,  and  his 
belt  of  weapons  in  his  hands. 

"  Go,  my  son  !  "  his  father  said,  in  a  sort  of  dr}'  interest.  "  Stand 
by  your  companions  !     We  have  a  great  cause." 

The  young  man  fastened  his  belt  around  his  body,  looked  at  his 
gun  and  ammunition,  and  went  cheerfully  into  the  exposed  yard. 

"  For  all  that,"  muttered  Quantrell,  sinking  beside  the  planter, 
and  himself  sick  with  the  sight  of  blood,  "  there's  a  hole  in  Watson 
Brown." 

"  Poor  boy !  "  exclaimed  the  planter ;  "  bad  as  he  is,  I  pity  him." 

John  Brown  now  walked  into  the  armory-yard  and  began  to 
listen  to  the  sounds  of  shooting. 

"  I  hear  my  guns,"  he  said  to  Coppock.  "  They  must  be  my  re- 
enforcements.    Or,  perhaps,  they  have  disarmed  my  men." 

"  Captain  Brown,"  said  Coppock,  "  why  don't  we  hear  from  Cap- 
tain Kagi }  We're  holding  High  Street  corner  open  by  sentineling 
the  arsenal  wall,  but  nobody  comes  down  from  the  Rifle-works  ! " 

"  I  ordered  Kagi,"  said  John  Brown,  "  not  to  fire  upon  anybody; 
merely  to  hold  his  ground,  and,  if  attacked,  to  retire  upon  us  here. 
He  could  not  defend  himself  there  till  re-enforced." 

"  I  calkelate  he's  surrounded,"  said  Coppock. 

John  Brown  opened  the  engine-house  door  and  called  two  men 
in  from  their  posts  : 

"  Hazlett,  come  here  !     Bring  Lehman  with  you  !  " 

The  two  men  appeared,  in  military  precision,  belted,  blanketed, 
alert,  and  armed  to  the  teeth, 

"  I  want  you  to  proceed  to  the  Rifle-works  and  find  how  matters 
go  with  Kagi.  The  citizens  are  behaving  very  badly,  and  you  will 
need  a  hostage." 

He  looked  around  and  his  eye  fell  on  Quantrell. 

"  Take  that  man,"  John  Brown  concluded.  "  He  is  intelligent, 
and  will  understand  that  your  safety  is  also  his." 

"  Come,  march  ! "  spoke  Hazlett  to  Quantrell,  his  dull  hazel  eyes 
flashing  unamiably. 

"  Go  out  in  front,"  the  bright-faced  Lehman  said,  peeping  at  his 
gun-stock  critically  ;  "  the  man  who  can  sing  '  Home,  Sweet  Home ' 
can  find  his  way  back  to  it,  I  guess." 


KAGI. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


167 


They  went  into  the  yard,  and  the  watch-house  was  seen  to 
now  have  an  overflow  of  prisoners,  so  that  some  of  them  were 
loose  and  unarmed  in  the  grounds.  Stevens  was  in  command 
here,  striding  to  and  fro  in  the  beauty  and  regularity  of  manly  form 
and  accustomed  soldiership.     He  glanced  at  Quantrell  and  spoke : 

"Hostage,  my  boy?  Well,  if  you've  got  a  guardeen  angel,  no 
harm  can  come  to  you." 

"  Beautiful  words  !  "  thought  Quantrell.  "  I  know  that  I  am 
guarded,  from  heaven  and  from  this  world,  by  my  mother  and  by 
Katy's  prayers ! " 

He  saw  that  the  two  bridges  were  still  guarded,  by  Oliver  Brown 
and  by  William  Thompson,  and  that  the  armory-gate  was  held. 
An  ominous  lull  in  the  spluttering  firing  seemed  to  have  taken  place, 
and  nothing  stirred  in  the  streets  but  hogs  which  had  missed  their 
breakfast,  and  dogs  which  discovered  some  evil  abroad  but  could  not 
locate  it.  Around  the  Loudoun  Heights  the  crows  were  flocked 
together  curiously,  and  their  cawing  and  croaking  came  down 
through  the  chilly  and  spotted  air  like  swallows'  notes  down  a  smoky 
chimney  on  a  rainy  day. 

"  Turn  that  way,  Quantrell !  "  Lehman  said,  pointing  up  Shen- 
andoah Street. 

Quantrell  looked  back,  and  both  men  were  watching  him  with 
all  the  calculation  of  self-protection. 

"  If  you  make  one  jump  to  escape,"  Hazlett  spoke,  divining 
Quantrell's  mind,  "  I'll  drop  you  in  your  shoes." 

"  He  can't  tell  how  to  go,  Albert,"  muttered  Lehman,  more  gen- 
erously ;  "  I'll  go  ahead,  and  you  bring  up  the  rear." 

Lehman  led  on,  and  soon  they  came  to  a  yellow,  plastered 
school-house  of  two  stories,  with  a  cupola  and  tin  globe  on  the  roof. 

"  No  school  to-day,"  Lehman  cried  back  to  Hazlett.  "  It  makes 
me  feel  sorry  that  we've  shut  up  the  school.  Here  John  Cook  was 
teacher,  but  the  teacher's  played  the  truant  to-day.  And  the  little 
log  school  in  Maryland — Will  Thompson  says  they  stopped  that, 
too,  and  that  the  little  children  begin  to  cry  to  see  John  Cook  bring 
in  the  arms  and  put  'em  down  by  the  desks." 


1 68  KATY  OF  C A  TO  C  TIN. 

As  they  looked  at  this  shapely  school,  standing  under  the  walls 
of  rock  upon  a  little  shelf  of  grass,  like  a  child's  toy  banking-house 
upon  a  cottage  mantel,  it  seemed  to  Quantrell  that  there  came  out 
of  its  open  door  a  sound  of  children's  laughing. 

"  Stop  !  "  he  said.  "  Have  the  little  ones  had  the  simplicity  to 
come  to  school  this  bloody  day  ?  " 

Again,  upon  the  air,  or  upon  the  haunted  mind  of  Quantrell, 
came  children's  gleeful  laughter  through  the  parted  door. 

"  I  think  I  hear  children,"  Lehman  said.  "  Never  before  did  it 
sound  sad  to  me." 

"  Look  in  !  "  suggested  Hazlett. 

At  that  moment  half  a  dozen  shots  from  muskets  poured  down 
the  street  from  sward,  shelter,  or  steep  ahead  of  them. 

"  Muskets  !  "  exclaimed  Hazlett,  his  gun  at  his  eye,  peering  for 
an  enemy.  "  They've  got  Harper's  Ferry  muskets  from  somewhere  : 
I  know  the  sound." 

"  You're  right !  "  Quantrell  spoke.  "  I  saw  them  taking  fixed 
ammunition  out  of  the  very  armory  you  were  guarding.  Men  who 
can  be  as  bold  as  that,  can  fight  you  !  " 

Retreating  from  the  fire,  they  had  ascended  to  the  school-house 
green,  and  in  the  pause  their  attenuated  nerves  seemed  to  tremble 
with  the  peal  of  play-yard  laughter  again, 

"  Surely  there  are  children  there  ! "  Lehman  exclaimed,  his  dark 
eyes  in  surprise  dancing  upon  his  boyish  face. 

"  Guardian  angels  for  you,  my  lad  !  "  Quantrell  thought  to  say. 

"  Then  they  are  gone  !  " 

Lehman  had  put  his  ear  to  the  open  door,  and  all  was  still. 

"  This  school  is  open  for  the  war,"  added  Lehman,  with  a  pallid 
smile.  "  1/  we  have  luck,  we'll  make  a  black  folks'  college  on  Jef- 
ferson's Rock ! " 

Across  the  road  they  were  advancing  up,  a  band  of  men  appeared 
around  a  point  of  rock,  and  some  signs  of  military  trimmings  were 
in  their  caps  and  coats. 

"  Soldiers  ! "  exclaimed  Lehman.     "  Albert,  charge  them  ! " 

With  Quantrell  pushed  before,  these  two  men  undauntedly 
marched  on,  firing  rapidly  as  they  proceeded.  Hazlett  felt  a  sharp 
pain  in  his  foot  and  stopped :  his  shoe  had  been  ripped  by  a  bullet. 

"  Bill,"  he  said,  "  look  there  I  It's  a  whole  company.  We  can't 
get  to  Kagi  by  this  road." 

A  large  company  of  armed  men,  indeed,  filled  the  road  and  part 


KAGI. 


169 


of  the  bushy  steeps  in  the  d3rts  of  the  mountain,  but  they  had  been 
frightened  by  the  decision  of  the  two  marauders,  whom  they  prob- 
ably considered  to  be  the  skirmishers  of  a  larger  force. 

Advancing  with  fine  courage,  the  two  men  drove  the  company 
around  a  turn  of  the  road,  and  then  swiftly  fell  back  to  the  shadow 
of  the  Catholic  church,  and,  still  driving  Ouantrell  before  them  up 
the  cliffs,  attained  a  dizzy  street  of  naked  rocks  which  led  them  into 
the  High  Street  and  well  into  the  upper  town. 

They  kept  along  the  sides  of  this  street  wherever  open  lots  or 
paling  gardens  gave  space,  and  so  rose  into  the  air  till,  at  one  point, 
they  commanded  the  great  amphitheatre  of  rivers  and  yawning 
mountains. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  Hazlett,  looking  up  the  Potomac.  "  Are 
they  our  re-enforcements.'' " 

Following  his  eye,  Quantrell  saw  men  down  by  the  shallow  river 
as  if  intending  to  cross  ;  and  military  accoutrements  sparkled  gaudily 
also  there. 

"I'm  afraid  the  country  is  up  against  us,"  Lehman  remarked, 
"  but  we've  got  our  orders  to  obey  and  to  reach  Kagi,  if  he's  alive  !  " 

There  was  a  sadness  in  Lehman's  face  which  gave  his  resolu- 
tion the  beauty  of  courage.  Hazlett,  harsher,  duller,  without  ex- 
ternal grace,  had  no  less  courage,  but  his  promptness  was  like 
ferocity,  as  if  his  nervous  system  could  not  carry  in  the  tone  of 
nature  the  strain  of  the  occasion. 

"  Young  men,"  spoke  Quantrell,  "  don't  deceive  yourselves.  I 
know,  by  the  opportunities  Captain  Brown  has  given  me,  the  small- 
ness  of  your  numbers.  Around  you  are  strong  towns,  and  they 
have  marched  upon  you  from  Martinsburg  and  from  Cumberland, 
from  Hagerstown  and  Frederick,  from  Charlestown  and  Wihchester, 
from  Lexington  and  Richmond  !  Yes,  from  Baltimore  and  from 
Washington  !  You  look  so  lonely  to  me  on  this  ragged  mountain, 
hke  little  sprats  in  the  jaws  of  a  whale,  that  I  want  to  see  you 
escape ! " 

"  Here's  John  Cook's  mother-in-law's,"  Hazlett  said,  pointing  to 
a  house  in  the  cross-street,  called  by  the  name  of  The  Union  of  the 
American  States,  so  much  imperiled  this  day;  "John's  safe  across 
the  river,  anyway." 

"  It's  just  like  him  to  return,"  the  boyish  Lehman  answered ; 
"  but  I  hope  he  won't,  and  maybe  he  won't,  because  his  wife's  safe 
in  Pennsylvania.     I  hope  she'll  draw  him  there." 


I/O 


A'ATY   OF   CATOCTIN. 


"  Lehman,  were  you  ever  in  love  ?  " 

"  A  little  ;  not  enough  to  hurt.  I'm  glad  no  girl  will  break  her 
heart  for  me  when — " 

"You  die,"  finished  Quantrell.  "I'm  afraid,  Lehman,  you  will 
never  see  that  lowering  sun  go  down  again." 

"  There's  heaven,  I  calkelate,"  said  Lehman,  looking  up  ;  "  and 
they  say  that's  ever  sunny.  Mr.  Quantrell,  I  wish  we  could  get 
somewhere  down  here  among  the  bushes  and  rocks  and  hear  you 
sing  '  Home,  Sweet  Home  '  again.  It  seems  as  if  I  wanted  to  hear 
it  now.  What  is  this  music  that  it  takes  hold  of  people  so  ?  Do  men 
make  it  up,  or  do  they  hear  it  from  somewheres  and  remember  it  ?  " 

The  dark-eyed  boy,  with  no  tremor  in  his  voice  or  steps,  asked 
this  question  on  the  high  plateau  with  the  simplicity  of  innocence, 
though  beleaguered  round  till  there  seemed  no  outlet  for  him  but 
some  miracle  of  wings  by  which  he  might  fly  into  the  gray  and 
hungry  heaven  he  had  spoken  of. 

"  O  men,  why  did  you  come  here .'' "  Lloyd  Quantrell  asked, 
almost  in  bitterness,  thinking  of  scenes  of  cruelty  he  might  live  to 
witness  upon  these  men,  as  living  and  perceiving  as  himself. 

"  I  heard  a  call,"  young  Lehman  simply  said ;  "  I  thought  it 
came  from  God.  If  it  came  from  the  devil,  that's  another  sin  of 
his'n  to  answer  for." 

"  I  heard  an  invitation,"  Hazlett  said.  "  'Tain't  often  I  wake  to 
poetry  or  glory,  but  I  thought  this  invitation  was  about  right.  I 
hefted  of  it,  and  it  was  jus'  comfor'ble  like." 

As  Hazlett  spoke,  he  balanced  his  carbine  in  one  hand,  for 
practical  examplification. 

"  How  could  John  Cook  marry  a  young  wife  here  and  become  a 
father,  while  planning  all  this  blood  and  insurrection  ?  How  could 
he  teach  children  in  Harper's  Ferry,  and  be  so  treacherous .'' " 

"  Oh,"  Lehman  answered,  "  God  had  his  Hebrew  spies.  Love 
grows  anywhere.  John  didn't  come  here  to  get  in  love,  but  he  was 
lonesome,  and  love,  I  calkelate,  peeped  into  the  school-house.  You 
are  sent  to  school,  maybe,  to  study  and  improve  your  time,  but 
some  day  you  look  up  from  your  book  and  see  a  little  girl  swinging 
her  pretty  feet  as  she  hums,  '  B-a  ba  ;  b-e  be  ;  b-i  bi ! '  The  book 
flies  out  of  your  head ;  the  girl  slips  into  your  heart,  and  next  thing 
it's  b-i  dy,  and  b-a  da,  and  by-o-baby  by  !" 

Singing  this  like  a  lullaby,  Lehman  and  his  companions  both 
laughed  cordially,  but  not  long,  for  Hazlett  said,  reflectively : 


KAGI. 


71 


"There's  no  doubt  about  John  Cook  loving-  his  wife.  If  he 
hadn't  been  a  man  of  some  '  sand '  she'd  have  weaned  him  from  his 
work.  He  did  all  the  dangerous  work :  peddled  books  from  farm 
to  farm  among  the  savage  dogs,  and  finding  where  we  had  friends 
or  foes.  If  any  negro  had  betrayed  his  talk,  the  white  men  here 
would  have  burned  John  alive.  John  Cook's  vain,  but  he's  a  better 
spy  than  Major  Andre  ever  was,  and  he  never  was  trapped." 

Thus  talking,  they  descended  open  lots  and  fields  between  the 
officers'  dwellings  on  the  high  upland  and  the  raveling  houses  of 
Union  Street,  which  continued  toward  the  Shenandoah  like  another 
town,  unaware  of  Harper's  Ferry  proper.  Many  thickets  of  cedar 
and  pine,  chestnut  and  brush,  girted  the  hill-slopes  between  which 
this  street  picked  its  precarious  way,  and  so  they  kept  somewhat 
concealed  until  they  reached  an  open  rock  right  over  the  Shenan- 
doah, and  so  close  upon  it  that  only  the  roofs  of  the  Rifle-works 
beneath  them  could  be  seen  ;  bell-tower  and  chimneys,  foaming 
waste  water,  sycamore  and  willow  trees,  trim  walls  and  comely 
grounds,  and,  beyond,  the  river  singing  its  plaint  to  the  stern 
mountains  and  captive  town  ;  and  far  away,  to  the  southwest,  this 
river  ascended  in  light-green  islets  like  an  archipelago  of  moss  in 
crystalline  cascades,  miles  upward,  as  if  the  forests  had  opened  for 
the  blue  horizon  to  melt  through. 

"What's  that  out  yonder?"  Hazlett  exclaimed.  "  Is  that  Kagi.^ 
They're  firing  at  himj     He's  not  going  without  a  shot  ?  " 

"Captain  Brown  told  him  not  to  use  force,"  Lehman  said; 
"only  to  hold  the  Rifle-works  if  he  could." 

Rattling  musketry  from  unseen  places  below,  and  white  smoke 
rising  subsequently  up  the  rocks,  showed  that  a  conflict  of  some 
kind  was  taking  place. 

Following  Hazlett's  eyes,  Quantrell  saw  a  few  men  in  blankets 
and  wool  hats,  and  carrying  short  guns,  run  along  from  cover  to 
cover,  fired  upon  as  they  were  exposed,  but  only  pretending  to  fire 
back,  and  as  they  reached  the  Shenandoah  shore  one  of  them  threw 
up  his  hands  and  fell  into  the  river. 

They  all  disappeared  in  a  few  minutes,  and  next  were  seen  other 
men,  with  longer  guns,  following  from  cover  to  cover  until  they  re- 
placed the  others  near  the  river-brink,  and  there  crouched  down  or 
found  some  shelter,  and  proceeded  to  load  and  fire  with  great  energy 
and  method. 

In  a  little  while  there  appeared  at  some  distance  in  the  river,  men 


172  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

wading,  with  their  short  guns  held  above  their  heads.  There  were 
three  of  them  whom  Quantrell  could  see,  and  they  sank  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  brawling  but  treacherous-bottomed  stream,  some- 
times carried  off  their  feet  and  swimming  to  a  shallower  part,  where 
they  found  foothold  again. 

One  was  a  negro.  Quantrell  immediately  identified  him  as  the 
man  Copeland  who  had  threatened  his  life  in  the  cave. 

The  bullets  of  the  attacking  parties  on  the  shore  cut  the  water 
all  around  these  men,  and  the  balls  could  be  seen  to  strike  and 
make  jets  of  water  fly,  and  in  a  little  while  one  of  the  white  men  put 
his  hand  quickly  to  his  breast,  drew  his  gun,  motioned  as  if  to  aim 
it,  and  fell  over  in  the  current,  and  floated  down  toward  the  low  cas- 
cade or  breast  in  the  stream. 

At  this  scene  the  negro,  who  was  also  wading,  lo^t  self-control, 
and  began  to  plunge  and  stumble  in  the  river,  making  his  way  to- 
ward a  rock  nearly  exposed  above  the  current,  and  plainly  seen  from 
the  shore  by  the  ripple  it  made. 

He  climbed  upon  this  rock,  and,  if  he  possessed  a  gun,  it  was  not 
now  visible  ;  the  bullets  fell  around  him,  and  he  faced  the  shore  with 
a  gesture  of  both  rage  and  dread,  grasping  the  stone  with  one  hand. 

It  seemed  to  Quantrell,  as  he  looked  at  that  tired  human  being, 
with  the  open  mouth  and  the  eyeballs  straining  wide,  that  the  wild 
roar  of  the  river  was  Copeland's  panting  breath,  full  of  the  heart- 
beats of  despair. 

A  gun  exploded  at  Quantrell's  side,  and,  as  if  obeying  it,  another 
gun  immediately  went  off. 

The  people  along  the  shore,  who  had  meantime  become  bolder 
and  bolder,  hearing  these  shots,  looked  back  and  ran  to  shelter 
again,  but  there  was  one  man,  indifferent  to  danger,  or  inflamed  by 
drink  or  rage,  who  deliberately  waded  in  the  water  toward  the  negro 
on  the  rock. 

Hazlett  and  Lehman  shot  again  at  this  pursuer,  who  turned 
his  face  toward  the  shore,  and,  still  wading,  raised  his  hand  de- 
fiantly. 

By  the  time  they  had  made  ready  to  fire  again,  the  man  was 
too  close  to  the  negro  for  them  to  shoot  one  without  imperiling 
both. 

The  man  seized  the  negro,  pulled  himself  up  on  the  same  rock, 
struck  the  negro  in  the  face  a  blow  so  powerful  that  it  seemed  the 
spectators  could  hear  it,  and,  as  the  mulatto,  Copeland,  came  up 


KAGI. 


173 


from  the  water  gasping  and  struggling,  it  was  seen  that  his  assailant 
had  also  seized  his  gun,  and,  pointing  it  at  him,  began  to  drive  him 
ashore. 

"  I  reckon  you  fellows  have  got  your  match  in  these  Harper's 
Ferryers,"  Ouantrell  said,  turning  to  look  at  his  guards. 

They  were  both  deeply  attentive,  yet  cool ;  Hazlett  had  fallen  to 
his  knee  to  aim,  and  Lehman  was  drawing  his  gun  to  his  shoulder, 
and  it  seemed  to  Quantrell  that  his  bright  black  eye  at  the  barrel 
might  set  the  powder  off. 

The  black  man  was  seized  by  strong  and  fierce  hands  as  he  arose 
from  the  stream,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  was  being  knocked  down 
and  maltreated. 

Into  the  huddle  of  men  around  him  the  rifle-balls  of  Lehm.an 
and  Hazlett  were  poured ;  they  took  the  ammunition  from  pouches 
at  their  sides,  loaded  at  the  breech  with  quick  motion,  and  fired 
again  and  again. 

The  captors  of  Copeland  broke  and  fled  to  the  protection  of  the 
Rifle-works,  carrying  the  negro  along. 

"Come!"  exclaimed  Hazlett;  "they  will  surround  us  in  a 
minute." 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Lehman  ;  "  where's  Kagi  ?  " 

"He's  almost  safe,"  Hazlett  answered;    "see,  he's  half-way 


over 


Looking  farther  along  the  breast  of  the  hurrying  river,  Lloyd 
saw  a  form  floating  upon  its  back,  with  face  turned  upward,  and 
rapidly  going  down  the  current,  yet  by  a  method,  so  that  it  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  eddies  and  expanded  the  distance  between  itself  and 
pursuit. 

This  man's  arm  held  his  gun  aloft  and  paddled  with  one  hand 
and  the  feet,  and  when  it  seemed  that  he  was  about  to  go  over  the 
falls  he  suddenly  found  a  shoal,  and  stood  up  and  looked  at  his  gun 
carefully,  as  if  now  ready  for  action. 

Quantrell  divined  this  man  before  he  saw  the  long  black  hair, 
portly  figure,  and  manly  proportions  rise  and  be  denoted. 

It  was  Kagi,  floating  face  upward,  toward  the  unseen  stars. 

"  He  will  not  feed  the  worm  just  yet,"  Quantrell  thought. 

As  Kagi  stood  up,  he  became  the  only  remaining  object  of  fire 
from  the  Rifle-works ;  the  balls  fell  around  him,  but  did  not  seem 
to  strike  near.  He  raised  his  gun  to  his  shoulder,  and  the  dark 
scowl  of  his  countenance  seemed  to  be  interpreted  by  his  fine,  belted 


174  KATY   OF   CATOCTIiV. 

form,  and  elbows  balanced  beyond  his  hips,  and  the  poise  of  his 
bearded  and  long-maned  head  and  neck. 

"  Why  don't  he  shoot  ?  "  muttered  Hazlett,  looking  from  under 
his  red  eyebrows  with  the  greatest  interest. 

"  Orders  ! "  whispered  Hazlett ;  "  he's  second  in  command,  and 
the  adjutant,  and  he's  too  good  a  soldier  to  break  orders," 

The  fire  on  Kagi  was  now  extraordinary.  Not  only  did  the  con- 
cealed men  in  and  about  the  Rifle-works  make  him  a  target,  and  aim 
with  increasing  coolness  and  care,  but  from  the  large  island  below 
and  its  mills  and  tenements  other  persons  were  tr)'ing  their  skill 
upon  him  and  bringing  him  under  a  cross-fire,  and  from  the  heights 
nearly  over  Quantrell's  head  concealed  persons  were  shooting ;  and, 
as  he  once  looked  up,  he  saw  a  woman  of  large  frame,  but  almost 
girlish  face,  aiming  a  rifle,  and  as  it  flashed  she  disappeared. 

The  nearly  perpendicular  crags  were  fringed  with  little  boys, 
some  firing  old  horse-pistols,  others  throwing  stones,  and  Kagi  was 
the  only  living  object  of  hate  to  engage  their  attention. 

It  was  now  later  than  midday,  a  Monday  after  Sabbath  rest, 
when  the  energies  of  workmen  were  fresher  than  on  other  days,  and 
all  these  energies  were  madly  alert  to  tind  and  destroy  the  purloin- 
ers  of  their  wages,  who  kept  the  armories  idle,  and  halted  men  and 
governments.  Having  had  a  taste  of  blood,  the  furious  instincts  of 
all  were  aroused  for  a  full  meal,  and  Kagi  was  the  only  game  in  plain 
sight. 

As  the  bullets,  passing  over  the  intervening  thousand  or  more 
feet  of  river,  fretted  the  surface  like  hailstones,  Kagi  raised  his  hand 
and  pointed  toward  the  Loudoun  Mountain,  and  shook  his  head  as 
if  to  say,  "  I'm  safe  beyond  the  worm."  Quantrell,  remembering 
Kagi's  apprehensions  on  past  occasions,  mentally  translated  his 
gesture  of  contempt  and  confidence  in  that  figure  of  speech. 

Beyond  Kagi,  who  was  within  a  few  rods  of  the  farther  shore 
and  its  low  strand  of  mountain  debris  and  brush,  there  was  a  deep 
eddy  among  large  rocks,  where  the  current  could  be  seen  foaming 
mightily,  and  this  he  must  cross  to  gain  the  wooded  mountains  and 
their  lonely  depths.  No  dwelling  was  on  that  farther  shore  except 
some  fishermen's  huts  of  drift-wood,  and  no  clearing  but  a  patch  of 
wild  garden  exposed  to  the  freshets ;  the  solemn  mountain  reared 
its  head  among  the  crows  and  vultures  like  some  prancing  horse 
with  insects  flocking  in  its  mane. 

Kagi  finally  prepared  himself  for  the  endeavor ;  his  companions 


KAGI. 


175 


were  all  dead  or  taken  at  the  Rifle-works,  and  he  drew  his  belt  tight, 
raised  his  gun  and  blanket  high  above  his  head,  and  stepped  into 
the  boiling  surface  and  went  down,  down,  until  he  sank  from  view ! 

"  He's  drowned  !  "  spoke  Hazlett,  breathlessly. 

"  No,  he's  come  up,"  said  Lehman,  in  a  moment;  "he's  a  good 
swimmer." 

As  Kagi  rose  it  was  seen  that  he  was  floating  upon  his  back,  his 
head  thrown  backward,  and  his  rich  beard  raised  with  his  chin  into 
the  air.  His  gun-barrel  pointed  upward.  The  river  moaned  loudly, 
because  all  had  ceased  firing. 

In  a  moment  more  Kagi  had  reached  a  gentle  ripple,  where  he 
could  rise  and  stand. 

"  Thank  God,  he's  beat  them  all !  "  spoke  Lehman. 

As  Kagi  stood  and  shook  himself  like  a  water-dog,  he  looked 
back  no  more,  but  straight  upward,  toward  the  ceiling  of  the  day  on 
the  mountain  cornice. 

"  He's  thanking  his  star  now ! "  said  Ouantrell,  between  his  teeth  ; 
"  it's  served  him  well." 

"  Great  man  !  "  young  Lehman  remarked,  reverently ;  "  he's  not 
as  good  a  soldier,  maybe,  as  Captain  Stevens,  but  full  of  head  and 
devotion.  He's  our  statesman  ;  we  had  a  poet,  too,  but  he's  not  re- 
liable, I  calkelate." 

They  saw  Kagi  fold  his  arms  and  look  around  him,  like  another 
William  Tell,  rejoicing  in  the  freedom  of  the  mountains.  He  gazed 
everywhere  intently,  on  earth  and  shore,  flowing  water  and  cold  gray 
sky,  cloud  and  bird,  and  then  raised  up  his  arms  and  gun  and  en- 
tered the  water  again,  where  it  flowed  very  deep  against  the  rock- 
bound  margin. 

"Another  minute,"  said  Lloyd  Ouantrell,  "and  he'll  vanish  in 
the  woods." 

Suddenly,  from  the  thick  bushes  which  partly  shut  in  the  Loudoun 
shore,  there  burst  a  volley  of  sound  and  flame,  so  quick,  so  unex- 
pected, that  it  turned  every  eye  away. 

Men  were  seen  there  firing  again  and  again. 

"  He's  cut  off,"  Ouantrell  said  ;  "  the  worm  has  inherited  him." 

Kagi  had  disappeared  ;  the  firing  ceased. 

"  He's  sunk  !  "  young  Lehman  muttered.  "  Oh,  Captain  Brown 
has  lost  his  best  man  ! " 

"  Look  there  !  "  Hazlett  gasped,  with  open  mouth ;  "  he's  swim- 
ming again." 


76 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


In  the  rapid  current  under  the  shore  Kagi's  body  was  floating, 
but  not  with  the  chin  up ;  the  rich  beard  had  dropped  upon  the 
breast ;  the  long  hair  floated  like  blackened  weed  in  the  eddies  ;  the 
face  was  white  as  a  silver  coin,  or  the  reflection  of  a  belated  star  in 
Morning's  countenance. 

With  agitation  and  a  sick  stomach,  Ouantrell  had  produced  his 
flask  of  spirits. 

"  Poor  soul !  "  he  exclaimed  as  he  drank  the  draught ;  "  I  drink 
to  the  worm  that  distills  him  to  the  stars." 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

FIRST   CADET   SLAIN. 

"  Come  ! "  exclaimed  Hazlett  to  Quantrell,  speaking  with  a  pale 
face  and  eyes  yet  muddier  in  color,  as  if  these  were  not  both  of 
the  same  hue.  "Keep  on  before  us,  or  we'll  \&z.\^  you  with  your 
worm." 

"  You  must  be  our  prisoner  back  to  Captain  Brown,"  said  Leh- 
man, also  handling  his  gun,  marksman-fashion. 

"  I've  felt  the  fear  of  death  myself  to-day  where  I  seemed  to 
have  no  chance  at  all,"  Lloyd  replied,  "  and  I  don't  want  to  see  you 
fellows  murdered  before  my  eyes." 

He  led  the  way  up  through  the  ravines  and  cedars  ;  bullets  came 
after  them  from  the  rifle-works,  but  they  soon  got  into  the  grounds 
of  the  commandant  on  the  hill-top  ;  and,  as  the  Potomac  burst  into 
view,  soldiery  were  seen  upon  the  Maryland  shore,  marching  down 
behind  the  tow-path.     Hazlett  beheld  them  and  turned  pale. 

"  It  looks  like  our  bein'  sun'ounded,  Will,"  he  spoke. 

"  I  calkelate  they're  our  re-enforcements,"  Lehman  replied,  his 
boyish  countenance  looking  toward  that  shore  with  a  gentle  longing ; 
"  but  I  wish  we  was  over  there ;  for  I  grew  to  like  Maryland. 
What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Quantrell  ?  " 

"  My  lads,  I  shall  see  you  all  die  before  my  eyes,  like  Kagi  and 
Leary,  unless  you  can  cross  that  Potomac  bridge  before  yonder  men 
reach  it.  Your  killing  me  won't  save  yourselves.  Do,  for  mercy's 
sake,  run  for  the  bridge  !  " 

"  Not  I,"  Lehman  said,  "  without  Captain  Brown." 


FIRST  CADET  SLAIN. 


77 


"  He's  got  us  into  this,"  Hazlett  spoke  ;  "  we'll  try  to  get  to  him, 
and  maybe  we  can  cross  the  Shenandoah  bridge." 

They  had  now  come  on  the  flanks  of  High  Street  and  were  keep- 
ing down  it,  sheltering  from  observation  wherever  possible;  Quan- 
trell  going  ahead,  and  the  other  two  concealing  their  short  guns  in 
their  blankets  and  hiding  their  belts  of  knives  and  pistols. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  was  heard  upon  the  turn- 
pike's stones,  and  before  they  could  secrete  themselves  a  fine-look- 
ing, martial-riding  man  was  right  upon  them,  going  at  a  gallop. 

Both  Hazlett  and  Lehman  dropped  a  hand  to  their  concealed 
revolvers  and  measured  the  man's  body  with  an  inner  light  of  mean- 
ing in  their  eyes. 

*'  Whaw  aw  they  ?  Whaw  aw  they  ?  "  he  cried.  A  rifle  was  over 
his  shoulder. 

"  Whaw  who  ?  "  Lehman  exclaimed,  with  mischief-like  inno- 
cence. 

"  The  Arabs  who  have  dragged  my  friend  Colonel  Washington 
from  his  bed." 

"  Down  yonder."  Ouantrell  waved  his  hand  toward  the  lower 
town. 

"  I'll  settle  with  them,"  hallooed  the  rider,  "  whawever  they  aw. 
I'll  die  fo'  my  friend,  sah." 

As  he  pricked  his  horse  on,  Hazlett  raised  his  pistol. 

"  I'll  drop  him  in  the  road,"  said  Hazlett;  "it's  against  orders 
for  citizens  to  carry  arms,  and  that  man's  a  trained  soldier.  Look 
at  his  square,  straight  shoulders." 

Quantrell  struck  the  pistol  down  with  his  hand. 

"  Don't  kill  that  man  for  risking  his  life  for  his  friend,"  he  en- 
treated. "  Every  life  you  take  will  be  reckoned  against  you.  Kill 
me,  if  you  want  a  life!  " 

While  Hazlett  stared  muddily  at  Quantrell,  as  if  going  to  cut 
him  to  pieces,  a  voice  was  heard  calling : 

"  Come  on  !  come  on,  heah  !  " 

They  saw  the  negro  Ashby,  who  had  climbed  the  hills  from  the 
river,  and  all  hastened  toward  him. 

"De  armory's  mos'  tuk,"  he  said.  "  Dey  got  Thompson  off'n 
de  bridge.  Dar's  no  way  to  git  to  Cap'n  Brown  now  but  by  de  big 
gate,  an'  solgers  is  stoppin'  up  boff  de  bridges.  Cap'n  Brown  says 
come  quick  and  bring  Cap'n  Kagi's  comman'  to  him." 

"Kagi's  killed,  Ashby,"  Quantrell  spoke;  "he  and  all  his  men 


78 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


but  one — Copeland,  the  mulatto.  What  will  happen  to  him  the 
angels  fear  to  know  !  " 

"  O  my  God  !  "  the  negro  sighed,  in  agony  of  fear  and  sorrow. 

There  trotted  in  their  midst  the  pointer-dog  Albion,  insinuating 
and  mysterious  as  ever.  His  muzzle  was  as  straight  out  as  his 
tail ;  his  leg  pawed  with  nothing,  kitten-like ;  his  fine  white  spots  in 
the  brown  neck  seemed  like  flies  in  stale  liver  at  butchers'  stalls ; 
the  outcast  life  of  a  single  forenoon  had  gone  thus  far  toward  de- 
moralizing animals  and  men. 

Albion  rather  fawned  upon  all  the  party,  and  showed  a  suspi- 
cious recognition  of  their  friendship,  which  may  have  led  Lehman 
to  say : 

"  Albert,  I  shall  go  by  the  upper  yard.  'Twon't  do  for  both  of 
us  to  be  took.  You  go  by  the  town  and  take  these  two  men  along. 
One  of  us,  I  calkelate,  if  not  both,  will  get  to  Captain  Brown  that 
way." 

The  two  men  clasped  each  other's  hands. 

"  Fight,  Will,  and  never  be  taken  ! "  Hazlett  said. 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  Albert.  If  the  worst  comes,  we've  got  friends 
across  the  river — and  friends  up  yonder,  too  !  " 

He  looked  to  heaven,  and  a  tear  filled  his  bright  eye. 

"  Forward  now,  both  of  you  ! "  Hazlett  exclaimed,  as  Lehman 
disappeared  down  the  raveling  face  of  the  heights,  and  he  drove 
Ashby  and  Ouantrell  down  the  road  before  him,  his  rifle  and  eye 
equally  sentient  and  ready. 

"  Ashby,"  whispered  Quantrell,  "  by  hurrying,  you  may  cross  the 
Potomac  Bridge  before  the  troops  in  Maryland  seize  it.  Remember 
my  directions  !  Go  to  Bosler's,  in  Catoctin  Valley.  Here  is  all  my 
money.     Let  Luther  go  and  buy  you,  and  hasten  to  me." 

"  Mosster,"  said  the  negro,  taking  the  gold  pieces  with  fear. 
"  what  makes  you  trust  me  .?  " 

"  The  fear  of  God  !  "  said  Quantrell.  "  Something  in  this  world 
is  wrong,  and  I  want  to  lend  to  the  Lord." 

"  God  bless  you,  mosster  !"  said  the  negro,  huskily  ;  "  I'll  try  to 
git  away,  faw  yo'  sake  !  " 

No  sympathetic  light  was  in  the  man  Hazlett's  eyes,  and  he 
watched  them  both  with  a  merciless  energy,  the  greater  because  he 
was  now  wholly  self-dependent. 

Quantrell  remembered  the  acts  of  rowdyism  he  had  assisted  in 
toward  unarmed  and  helpless  foreigners,  and  wondered  if  it  was  in 


FIRST  CADET  SLAIN. 


179 


the  remembrance  of  mercy  to  save  his  Hfe.  He  remembered  the 
contemptuous  idea  he  had  entertained  of  the  courage  of  "  Yankees," 
whom  he  had  nearly  included  among  the  "  foreigners,"  and  asked 
himself  if  he  dared,  even  with  the  negro  Ashby's  neutrality,  or 
possible  help,  to  fall  upon  this  hard,  self-reliant,  unadorned  fellow  in 
the  rear,  and  contend  with  him  to  the  death. 

He  turned  twice,  with  this  thought  in  his  mind,  and,  steady  as  a 
common,  regular  soldier  of  the  line,  Hazlett  was  looking  at  him  with 
his  eyes,  and,  Lloyd  thought,  with  his  wrists  too,  so  supple  were 
those  wrists  with  weapons  and  sensibility. 

"  He  is  a  Western  man,"  mused  our  hero ;  "  all  of  them  are 
Western  men.  What  is  this  West  I  have  heard  so  Httle  of  in  my 
geography  }     When  did  it  arise  ?     And  is  it  all  for  abolition  }  " 

They  now  had  entered  the  short,  closely  settled,  down-hill  por- 
tion of  the  street,  where  shops,  sign-posts,  small  bay-windows,  low- 
er areas  and  ladders  into  back  yards,  upper  verandas,  mechanics' 
stalls,  flights  of  stairs  toward  precipices,  overhanging  dormers, 
flaunting  clothes  on  clothes-lines,  and  all  the  accompaniments  of  a 
disturbed  or  suddenly  deserted  town,  closed  around  them  tattered 
and  grimy  in  the  narrow  throat  of  Harper's  Ferry. 

Guns  and  pistols  and  old  blunderbusses  began  to  rattle  again  in 
the  hollow  depths  of  the  place,  and  the  rain  drizzled  from  the  spotted 
sky  above.  At  the  foot  of  the  street  they  saw  the  dog  Albion, 
which  had  rushed  on  before,  barking  at  a  hog  that  was  too  familiar 
with  the  dead  body  of  Newby,  lying  there. 

No  forms  were  to  be  seen  in  the  street,  but  the  heads  of  some 
men  appeared  beneath  the  stoops  or  basements  of  porches,  all 
turned  down  toward  the  dead  negro  and  the  street  which  crossed 
that  one  Ouantrell  was  descending.  The  reason  for  this  was  plain 
when,  in  a  moment,  two  men,  Hke  Brown's  followers,  stepped  out 
from  the  arsenal  side  there  and  fired  up  the  street. 

The  men  down  in  the  intrenched  and  recessed  basements  of  the 
shops  returned  the  fire  in  another  instant. 

"  This  way  !  "  Hazlett  called,  hoarsely,  pointing  up  the  hill  to  the 
right. 

A  scrap  of  street  found  lodgment  in  there,  and,  going  the  same 
way  as  the  High  Street,  soon  left  it  far  below. 

In  the  intensity  of  the  moment  Ouantrell  saw  all  things  in  the 
view — the  chimneys,  the  chickens  picking  garbage  in  the  street,  carts 
uptilted  at  the  curbs,  plastered  walls,  and  stone  and  brick  escarp- 


l80  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN, 

ments  on  the  roofs,  uneven  pavements  of  blue  limestone,  wild  chil- 
dren yet  without  breakfast  screaming  or  sleeping  up  the  tenement 
halls  and  alleys ;  and,  finally,  the  Catholic  church  at  the  cornice  and 
ridge  of  everything,  holding  its  pale  golden  cross  to  the  moody 
heavens,  and  by  its  side  the  bell,  suspended  in  a  derrick  of  timber, 
seemed  to  be  taking  a  second  nap  after  having  called  in  vain  for 
others  to  arise. 

Again  the  Shenandoah  was  seen  beyond  the  mills  and  islands, 
cowering  as  it  ran  beneath  the  great  gnarled  mountain.  Again,  the 
mighty,  scarred  form  of  Maiyland  Heights  reared  back  like  a  be- 
headed buffalo.  The  blended  rivers,  breaking  in  ripples  over  grid- 
irons of  I'ock,  went  down  the  mountain  vistas  like  fugitive  hosts  of 
dead-faced  people,  flying  from  the  wrath  of  Nature  ;  or  the  volcano's 
lava-channel  in  the  sheen  of  the  moon. 

But  in  this  general  awe  there  was  indifference  too — the  indiffer- 
ence of  the  great  to  the  little,  of  the  torpid  to  the  quick ;  the  indif- 
ference of  the  basking  crocodile  to  the  bees  upon  his  jaws ;  the  in- 
considerateness^of  mountains,  after  their  convulsion,  to  the  writhing 
of  the  birds  that  serpents  in  their  bowels  charm  ;  the  languor  of  old 
geology  in  its  nap  of  cycles  to  the  newsboy's  darling  revolution  of 
some  few  people  slain  in  riots. 

John  Brown  had  made  no  impression  upon  the  trance  of  Nature. 
The  hollow  ear  of  heaven  bending  overhead  considered  him  not — 
he,  nor  the  perishing  insects  he  had  disciplined  for  another  skirmish 
in  the  brief  antiquity  of  freedom. 

"  Ashby,  I  see  the  men  in  Maryland  yonder.  You  have  time  to 
cross  the  bridge — just  time,  not  a  moment  to  spare  !  " 

"  Come  on,  then,  and  go  before  !  "  cried  Hazlett,  descending  the 
ragged  natural  steps  from  the  church  to  the  street. 

As  they  crept  down  these  steps,  shot  rattled  in  the  High  Street 
below,  and  Ouantrell  and  Ashby  hesitated. 

•'  I'll  take  a  shot,"  spoke  Hazlett,  with  a  deadly  zest  for  combat 
in  his  heavy  eyes ;  and,  stepping  down,  he  raised  his  gun  and  fired 
up  the  street. 

"  I  left  my  mark  that  time,"  Hazlett  said,  surveying  his  work  and 
opening  his  rifle-breech.     "  Now  for  the  next  slave-catcher ! " 

He  had  barely  spoken  when  a  ball  or  wad,  or  other  instrument 
of  percussion,  struck  his  cartridge-box,  and  it  began  to  explode,  like 
Chinese  fire-crackers.  One  by  one  the  deadly  projectiles  broke 
forth,  each  with  its  cylinder  of  lead,  and  Hazlett  sought  in  vain  to 


FIRST  CADET  SLA  TV. 


I8l 


throw  it  away  from  him,  but  the  belt  would  not  come  loose.  He 
danced  in  a  frenzy  of  endeavor  and  apprehension,  balls  tearing  his 
clothes,  others  whizzing  near  Quantrell's  head  ;  and  the  sight  was  so 
ludicrous  that,  as  Lloyd  threw  himself  down,  he  began  to  laugh  till 
the  tears  came  to  his  eyes. 

"  He's  all  fired  out,  I  reckon,  now,"  Ashby  exclaimed,  as  the  ex- 
plosions ceased.     "  What  mus'  I  do  }  " 

"  Run  for  the  bridge  !  Tell  him  to  run  with  you  !  Remember 
Crampton's  Gap,  the  Catoctin  Valley,  and  Jake  Hosier's  farm." 

"  I'm  goin',"  said  the  negro.     "  Come,  Mr.  Hazlett,  fo'  yo'  life  !  " 

As  Hazlett  turned  to  look  at  Quantrell,  the  latter  had  a  rock  in 
his  hand. 

"  I'll  kill  you  if  you  come  here  !"  Quantrell  cried  ;  "your  carbine 
is  empty  and  your  cartridges  are  all  gone.     Keep  off !  " 

Hazlett  slipped  across  the  street  into  the  lane  by  the  river.  In 
a  moment  Lloyd  saw  him  appear  in  the  space  before  the  armory- 
gate,  where  he  hesitated,  as  if  thinking  to  turn  in.  The  negro  Ash- 
by  dashed  past  him  and  ran  toward  the  bridge. 

Being  fired  upon  from  the  houses  and  hill-tops,  Hazlett  affected 
to  be  aiming  his  empty  piece,  and,  stooping  down  and  backing  off, 
he  finally  disappeared  behind  the  corner  at  the  arsenal,  and  next 
was  seen  upon  the  bridge,  running  after  Ashby  at  the  top  of  his 
speed. 

Both  men  ran,  and  Lloyd  followed  them  with  intense  interest. 
He  felt  that  the  colored  man's  life  had  already  been  interposed  for 
his,  and  might  be  his  hostage  with  Destiny  again. 

The  soldiers  on  the  Maryland  shore  were  very  near  the  bridge, 
also,  and  now  began  to  run  toward  it,  firing  their  pieces. 

It  was  a  race  for  life  with  Hazlett  and  his  dusky  associate. 

In  another  moment  Quantrell  saw  both  these  men  emerge  from 
the  distant  end  of  the  bridge,  and  steal  along  the  base  of  the  heights 
toward  Pleasant  Valley  and  the  roofs  of  Sandy  Hook. 

"I've  made  a  banker  of  a  negro,  who  has  every  inducement  to 
run  away,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  said,  "and  yet,  I  don't  believe  he  will; 
for,  queerly  enough,  I  never  heard  of  a  negro  committing  a  breach 
of  trust." 

He  peeped  around  the  abutments  of  rock  and  houses  at  the  foot 
of  the  stone  steps. 

Some  townspeople  were  huddled  beneath  a  low  porch,  looking 
down  intently  at  an  object  they  also  sought  to  raise. 


1 82  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  That  may  be  Hazlett's  victim,"  Quantrell  thought.     "  I'll  see." 

He  came  unarmed  with  raised  hands  among  them,  merely  say- 
ing "Prisoner,"  and  looked  down  at  the  form  of  an  athletic,  bleed- 
ing man  on  the  stones  of  an  old  stoop  or  arcade. 

Quantrell  recognized  the  horseman  who  had  been  galloping  to 
save  his  friend  ;  he  was  shot  in  the  shoulder  and  neck,  and  was  al- 
ready dead,  yet  warm. 

"  Lay  him  back,  that-a-way,  like  a  ossifer ! "  said  one  of  the  men, 
rifle  in  hand,  seeking  to  see  both  the  street-corner  and  the  dead  man. 
"  He's  a  VVest-P'inter,  an'  they  likes  to  die  with  their  shoulders  stiff," 

Stretched  out  upon  the  stones  of  Harper's  Ferry,  the  first  gradu- 
ate of  the  United  States  Military'  Academy,  to  perish  in  the  conflict 
of  slavery,  lay  trembling  in  the  rich  red  chevron  of  his  heart's  blood. 

"  George  Turner  loved  Lew  Washington,"  spoke  another  man ; 
"  they  was  chums.  They  liked  their  juleps  jess  the  same ;  one 
would  mix  for  t'other,  and  t'other  preferred  his'n  to  he  own.  It's 
true  he  died  tryin'  to  shoot,  for  he  was,  as  you  may  say,  a  eddi- 
cated  ossifer." 

"  Take  him  off  the  street,  friends,"  Quantrell  said.  "  Lay  him  in 
the  house.  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this— that  he  lay  down 
his  life  for  his  friend  ! " 


CHAPTER   XX. 

GAULT   HOUSE. 

"  Three  citizens  already  killed  ;  that  is,  two  citizens  and  a  nig- 
ger," Quantrell  heard  remarked,  as  he  slipped  across  the  Shenandoah 
Street  to  the  railroad  there,  and,  passing  behind  the  arsenal,  gained 
the  exposed  saloon  on  the  railroad-track,  where  he  had  fought  the 
Logans  only  sixteen  hours  before. 

He  now  saw  a  sign  over  the  door  of  this  single-story  frame  sa- 
loon, "  Gault  House." 

It  was  a  cheap,  perishable  building,  without  social  position  or 
appearance,  and  yet,  in  the  inconsistency  of  time,  it  remains  down 
to  the  author's  day,  one  of  the  three  unimpaired  monuments  of 
ruined  Harper's  Ferry:  these  three  monuments  are  the  Catholic 
church  on  the  hill,  John  Brown's  Engine-House  or  "  Fort "  in  the 
desolate  armory-yard,  and  this  saloon  by  the  Shenandoah  bridge — 


GAULT  HOUSE. 


183 


representatives  of  the  three  active  principles  of  our  century :  Tra- 
dition, Revolution,  and  Alcohol — other  words  for  Faith,  Hope,  and 
the  Poor-House,  or  Charity ;  and  now,  as  of  old,  the  greatest  of 
these  is  Alcohol  or  Charity. 

"  Let  me  in  !  "  cried  Quantrell,  and,  the  door  opening,  he  leaped 
in,  and  there  was  instant  darkness. 

"  Who  are  you  .''  "  said  a  familiar  voice. 

"Why,  Mr.  Beall,  I'm  Mr.  Quantrell,  who  made  your  acquaint- 
ance last  night " ;  and  there  arose  upon  the  dark  the  fine,  natural 
tones  of  our  hero,  singing : 

"  Glenorchy's  proud  mountains,  Coalchuirn  and  her  towers, 
Glenstrae,  and  Glenlyon,  no  longer  are  ours  : 
We're  landless,  landless,  landless,  Grigalach  !" 

The  song  brought  admiration  and  low  inquiries,  "  Who  is  he  }  " 
and  John  Beall  vouched  for  Quantrell's  courage ;  and  when  Lloyd 
told  that  he  had  been  a  prisoner,  and  what  he  had  seen  of  Kagi's 
band  falling,  and  of  Turner's  death  but  an  instant  before,  all  breath- 
lessly listened,  and  then  the  back  door  was  thrown  open. 

It  was  seen  that  a  narrow  and  railed  veranda  ran  along  the  back 
of  the  saloon,  overhanging  the  foaming  Shenandoah  far  below,  and 
this  veranda  almost  gave  access  to  the  Shenandoah  bridge,  whose 
rock  abutment  adjoined  the  saloon. 

"  Mr.  Quantrell,"  spoke  Beall,  his  face  serious  to  the  verge  of 
gloom,  "  a  few  of  us  are  holding  this  place  with  the  greatest  cau- 
tion, because  we  believe  it  to  be  the  key  of  the  situation.  We  keep 
the  front  closed  and  have  fired  no  shot  from  here,  because  the  ene- 
my with  his  rifles,  from  the  engine-house,  can  riddle  this  thin  build- 
ing. We  expect  to  kill  him — all  that  there  is  left  of  him — when  he 
retreats  across  the  Potomac  bridge.  He  must  pass  right  in  front  of 
this  house  to  get  to  the  bridge,  and  we  want  to  kill  ever}'  man  he 
has  ! " 

The  suppressed  energy  of  the  speaker  called  Quantrell's  atten- 
tion. 

"Why,  John,"  he  said,  "you  would  pity  the  poor  devils  if  you 
had  seen  them,  as  I  have,  falling  in  the  river,  lying  in  the  streets, 
hungry,  absurd,  misled,  weeded  out." 

"  No."  replied  Beall,  trembling,  "  I  want  to  kill  every  man  of 
them !  W^e're  lying  low  here,  to  shoot  them  down  at  their  last 
chance !     We  let  one  scoundrel  pass  just  now,  lest  we  might  draw 


I §4  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

every  rifle  in  that  engine-house  upon  us  and  spoil  our  full  revenge, 
sir." 

"  Indeed,  you're  a  Scotchman,  John,  and  Highlander  too,  I  reckon. 
But.  of  course,  I'm  with  you.  \\  here's  William  Thompson,  the 
raider  who  guarded  the  Shenandoah  bridge  .>  " 

"  Taken.     He's  over  in  the  hotel." 

Beall's  eyes  smoldered,  and  his  eyebrows  and  mouth  were  both 
drawn  straight  and  hard. 

"  How  did  you  capture  the  bridge .''  " 

"  From  this  saloon.  We  crept  upon  the  guard,  an  unsuspecting 
fellow,  and  getting  him  fast,  sent  a  detachment  across  the  bridge  to 
kill  any  who  might  escape  from  the  Rifle-works." 

Not  a  smile  nor  gratulation  was  in  all  this;  a  devout  Indian, 
reciting  the  fate  of  the  enemies  he  had  doomed  for  the  manes  of  his 
father,  might  have  been  less  intense. 

"  I  saw  them  die,  John.     It  was  a  terrible  scene." 

"I  should  like  to  have  witnessed  it.  But  the  leader  is  still 
yonder ! " 

He  pointed  to  the  engine-house,  with  a  face  drawn  so  hard  to- 
gether from  the  jaw  to  the  skull,  that  every  feature  seemed  to  be  a 
plain  line.  Reflective  hate  lay  coldly  there,  incapable  now  of  other 
joy. 

Quantrell  looked  at  the  other  occupants  of  the  sinister  place — at 
the  saloon-keeper,  with  long,  fox-red  beard,  who  was  continually 
stroking  it,  and  with  eyes  wide  apart. 

"  Forty  drops,"  said  the  saloon-keeper.     "  Come  up  ! " 

He  went  behind  the  dusky  bar  and  set  the  bottle  out,  and  peeped 
through  a  hole  in  the  shutter  at  the  engine-house — laying  hand, 
meanwhile,  upon  the  long  revolver  there,  which  had  been  in  Lloyd's 
custody  the  night  before. 

"  They're  all  caged  in  the  engine-house,"  the  saloon-man  said. 
"  Hello  !  yonder's  one  coming  down  the  yard." 

They  peeped  successively  at  the  hole,  and,  when  Lloyd's  turn 
came,  he  saw  in  the  vista  of  the  armory-yard  two  men,  one  with  a 
gun,  keeping  the  other  man  between  him  and  a  party  of  armed  men, 
who  now  and  then  fired  a  shot,  but,  seeking  not  to  injure  the  host- 
age, they  did  no  execution. 

"  That's  Lehman  ! "  Quantrell  exclaimed.  "  And,  upon  my  word, 
the  fellow  running  is  Andrew  Atzerodt !  " 

"  Here,  gentlemen,"   the   warm-bearded   saloon-keeper  spoke ; 


GAULT  HOUSE.  1 85 

"  we'll  close  the  back  door,  and  that  will  darken  the  room,  so  we  may 
see,  and  be  unseen,  out  of  the  glass  door,  by  keeping  back  from  the 
light  a  little." 

He  raised  the  blind,  and  they  could  all  see. 

The  landlord  brought  out  his  pistol,  which  was  nearly  as  long 
as  one  of  the  outlaws'  rifles,  and  it  had  a  skeleton  breech  which 
made  it  a  veritable  gun  to  rest  against  his  shoulder.  He  rolled  the 
great  steel  chamber,  charged  with  six  slugs  like  Minie  balls,  between 
his  thumb  and  finger,  to  see  if  it  was  true  and  well  oiled. 

"  I  hope  there's  a  dead  man  in  every  cartridge,"  he  said.  "  That's 
my  pious  design." 

They  all  gazed  at  the  boy  Lehman,  skirmishing  with  twenty 
enemies.  The  balls  from  the  hills  and  town  would  tear  up  the 
ground  around  him  and  cut  twigs  from  the  elm  and  maple  trees, 
and  Atzerodt  would  fall  upon  the  ground  till  Lehman's  rifle  covered 
him,  and  then  he  would  start  up  with  wide,  imploring  arms,  only  to 
be  paralyzed  by  the  open  muzzle  of  the  rifle. 

"  That  boy's  dead  game,"  the  saloon-keeper  said  ;  "  but  our 
friends  are  shooting  very  poor." 

"  Lehman  don't  want  to  kill  anybody,"  Quantrell  said.  "  He  can 
drop  a  man  with  every  ball,  if  he  wants  to." 

They  now  observed  one  man  at  the  angle  of  a  building  behind 
Lehman,  deliberately  aiming  at  his  back.  The  pistol  exploded,  but 
only  Atzerodt  fell  down,  and  lay  like  one  stone-dead. 

Lehman  turned  upon  the  man,  whose  gun  was  now  uncharged, 
and  raised  his  rifle  at  him. 

The  man  fell  on  his  knees. 

"  Now  he'll  blow  his  head  right  ofT ! "  said  the  saloon-keeper. 

As  they  looked,  in  the  excitement  of  almost  mortal  suspense, 
they  saw  Lehman  knock  the  pistol  out  of  the  man's  hand  and  dis- 
appear behind  the  same  angle  of  wall  from  which  his  assassination 
had  been  sought. 

Atzerodt  jumped  up  and  ran  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

The  man  whose  life  had  been  spared,  rose  to  his  feet  and  quickly 
reloaded,  rammed  and  capped  his  pistol,  and  started  in  the  direction 
Lehman  had  gone. 

"  Forty  drops,"  said  the  saloon-keeper.     "  Come  up  !  " 

Every  man  around  the  bar  had  a  weapon  of  some  kind,  and  they 
drank  with  the  zest  of  hunters.  Beall  alone  was  abstinent  and 
brooding. 


1 86  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"Will  this  insult  upon  Virginia  ever  be  wiped  off?"  he  said  to 
Quantrell. 

"  We  entertained  your  invaders  in  Maryland,"  Quantrell  replied ; 
"  that  must  be  atoned  for." 

All  looked  carefully  at  their  weapons,  like  fishermen  inspecting 
their  tackle.     The  splutter  of  gunnery  in  the  street  was  continued. 

"  Gentlemen,"  spoke  Quantrell,  "I  want  to  see  the  fate  of  little 
Lehman,  and,  by  your  leave,  I'll  make  a  dash  for  the  railway-sta- 
tion." 

Before  there  could  be  objection,  he  had  opened  the  door  and 
closed  it  behind  him. 

A  very  few  steps  brought  him  upon  the  railroad  bridge,  and  he 
looked  in  wonder  at  the  changed  scene  around  him. 

Men  were  everywhere — upon  both  bridges,  on  the  strands  of  the 
rivers,  upon  both  shores  opposite,  and  crowding  the  railway-station 
and  fringing  the  hills ;  and  from  every  safe  place  guns  were  shooting 
at  the  little  engine-house  in  the  armory-yard,  which  began  to  show 
the  marks  of  a  bombardment :  its  doors  were  ripped  and  splintered, 
the  trees  around  it  clipped  of  twigs  and  stems  ;  and  yet  it  was  lan- 
guidly returning  fire  from  the  fresh  port-holes  and  from  the  partly 
open  doors,  where  now  a  man  could  be  seen  crouching  and  another 
standing. 

As  Quantrell  came  to  the  station  and  hotel,  he  heard  a  voice 
Try: 

"  O  Heywood,  speak  !  What  will  yo'  po'  wife  say  to  me  ?— He's 
gone.     He's  dead  !     Now  get  me  a  gun.     I  want  a  robber's  life  !  " 

Lloyd  saw  the  negro  porter  lying  still,  and  felt  his  body,  which 
was  already  partly  cold. 

"  I  know  whaw  I  can  find  a  pistol,"  spoke  the  mayor  of  the 
town  and  station  agent ;  "  I'll  git  it  and  return." 

He  dashed  toward  the  Gault  House  saloon,  and  Quantrell  swung 
down  the  railway  trestle-work  to  the  Potomac  strand  and  crept  along 
that  churning  river,  stooping  low.  There  were  men  lying  flat  upon 
their  breasts  from  point  to  point,  seeking  to  send  a  shot  into  the 
engine-house,  and  nearly  every  trestle-post  had  thus  its  revenger. 

Running  fast,  the  Baltimorean  soon  had  passed  most  of  the  ar- 
mory buildings,  but  was  arrested  by  the  whizzing  of  a  ball  within 
an  inch,  as  it  seemed,  of  his  head. 

He  glanced  across  the  river,  in  Maryland,  and  saw  a  puff  of 
smoke  rising  from  a  place  along  the  lower  mountain-side ;  beneath 


CAULT  HOUSE.  1 87 

the  smoke  was  a  human  form.  Quantrell's  eyes  were  keen,  and  he 
made  out  the  person  to  be  his  late  assailant,  little  Captam  Cook. 

If  Cook  it  was,  he  had  a  fall  in  greatness,  for  shots  from  Har- 
per's Ferry  hills  passed  over  Quantrell's  head,  and  the  person  upon 
the  mountain  was  seen  in  another  instant  to  be  rolling  down  the 
slope  and  then  to  lie  quite  still. 

Lloyd's  attention  was  immediately  drawn  to  a  man  running  from 
the  upper  end  of  the  armory  yard  right  into  the  brawling  and,  at 
places,  dangerous  Potomac. 

From  pool  to  pool,  and  eddy  to  eddy,  and  from  rock  to  rock, 
this  man  continued  on,  rapid,  lithe,  active,  and  manifestly  meaning 
to  ford  the  entire  river  or  to  perish  in  it. 

The  reason  was  soon  manifest :  a  large  body  of  armed  men,  in 
compact  order,  came  across  the  armory  mill-race  and  fired  a  volley 
at  the  fugitive. 

He  fell  and  lost  his  gun,  but  in  a  moment  was  up  again,  and  he 
crawled  upon  a  dry  rock  far  out  in  the  river  and  feebly  held  up  his 
hands. 

Quantrell  could  see,  even  then,  a  cheerful  look,  like  a  smile,  upon 
his  almost  child-like  face. 

"  Lehman  !  "  was  Lloyd's  inward  recognition  ;  "  I'm  glad  he  sur- 
renders— his  eyes  are  so  beautiful !  " 

The  firing  ceased  ;  but  one  man  was  also  rapidly  wading  the 
river  toward  Lehman,  and  something  about  him  seemed  familiar. 

"  Why,  that's  the  man,"  Quantrell  inwardly  remarked,  "  whose 
Hfe  Will  Lehman  saved  but  a  minute  ago.  It's  natural  that  he 
should  want  to  save  the  poor  lad's  life." 

The  man  went  on  and  did  not  hesitate,  for  Lehman  continued 
to  show  the  genial  countenance  of  one  submitting  to  capture,  and 
to  spread  his  hands  apart  in  the  hallowed  way  our  common  Saviour 
died. 

The  man  came  right  upon  him  but  did  not  grapple  with  him. 

Lehman  seemed  to  speak  to  him  pleasantly,  and  Lloyd  thought 
he  could  see  the  boy's  large  eyes  bright  with  pain  and  gratitude. 

The  man  suddenly  pulled  a  pistol  from  his  pocket,  pointed  it  at 
Lehman's  face,  so  close  that  he  nearly  touched  it,  and  fired. 

A  cry  of  mixed  exultation  and  horror  burst  from  the  soldiers  on 
the  shore.     , 

Lehman  fell  upon  the  rock  helpless,  with  a  great  hole  in  his 
face. 


1 88  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

The  man  returned  the  pistol  to  his  garments  and  drew  a  knife, 
and  began  to  cut  the  skirts  and  pockets  from  Lehman's  clothes. 

By  the  stillness  of  the  form  upon  the  rock,  Lloyd  knew  that 
Death,  the  invisible  vulture,  had  as  instantly  alighted  there. 

The  man  now  waded  ashore,  bearing  papers  and  other  things 
taken  from  the  dead  man. 

"  Fall  in,  Martinsburgers  !  "  the  command  rang  out ;  "  we'll  carry 
the  engine-house  next !  " 

They  marched  down  the  armory-yard,  and  Quantrell  was  left 
alone. 

He  also  waded  into  the  water  and  made  his  way  toward  Leh- 
man. 

The  boy  lay  silent  upon  the  stone,  the  roaring  rapids  being  his 
lullaby.  His  head  had  fallen  backward,  and  his  hairs  were  toyed 
with  by  the  cool  waters. 

"  Will,  look  up  !     I'm  your  friend  !  " 

The  late  tired  legs  of  Lehman,  which  had  walked  all  night  and 
day  upon  a  willful  yet  immortal  errand — crossing  the  river  to  and 
from  the  farm  three  times  in  one  night  and  morning — clasped  the 
stone  in  the  rigid  manner  of  one  who  meant  to  hold  fast  and  to  bear 
testimony. 

How  solemn,  how  awful,  seemed  the  sighing  waters  to  Quantrell, 
waist-deep  in  them  !  No  noise  besides  filled  the  air.  It  was  as  lone- 
ly as  being  drowned,  to  stand  alone  beside  this  uncomplaining  man. 

Quantrell  bent  over  the  rock,  but  only  once. 

What  he  saw  there  was  too  horrible  for  him  ever  to  repeat. 

Steadying  himself  upon  the  stone,  Lloyd  saved  himself  from 
swooning,  though  sick  to  the  temples.  He  dipped  his  head  into  the 
waters,  but,  when  he  lifted  it,  some  of  Lehman's  blood  in  the  water 
fell  down  upon  his  hands. 

"  He  asked  me  to  sing, '  somewheres  down  among  the  bushes  and 
rocks,'  the  words  of  '  Sweet  Home.'  I'll  do  it  among  the  waters  and 
rocks,  for  it  will  be  his  only  Christian  burial." 

Quantrell  raised  his  voice  and  sang : 

"  Home,  home,  sweet  home  ! 
There's  no  place  like  home — 
There's  no  place  like  home." 

"  Poor  lad  ! "  he  finished,  "  there's  no  home  for  him  now  but 
where  he  '  calculated  '  it  was  ever  sunny." 


GAULT  HOUSE.  1 89 

With  a  tear  in  his  eye,  Ouantrell  turned  to  the  shore,  and  when 
he  gained  it  he  lool<ed  back  once,  and  Lehman  lay  there  still,  like 
one  of  nature's  bowlders  rolled  in  the  deluges  of  time. 

As  Lloyd  picked  his  way  down  the  armory-yard  he  marked  the 
powerful  water  accompanying  the  long  line  of  shops,  conducted  be- 
hind them  in  a  stone  canal  and,  after  driving  wheels  and  cogs, 
grindstones  and  automatic  turning-lathes,  drills  and  trip-hammers, 
the  mill-water  then  gushed  beneath  the  ground,  in  arched  places, 
to  be  used  in  a  second  line  of  shops,  and  then  to  fall  back  into  the 
Potomac. 

Here  a  gun-stock  had  fallen  to  perfection  every  eight  seconds  ; 
every  day  of  earnest  labor  manufactured  sixty  muskets ;  the  doing 
of  death  was  the  soulful  motive  of  the  town  ;  but  to-day  it  was  all 
distraught  that  barely  two  of  its  white  men  had  been  killed  with 
arms  in  their  hands. 

As  he  drew  near  the  little  engine-house,  our  hero  dropped  be- 
hind the  office-buildings  just  west  of  it ;  a  lull  had  taken  place  in 
the  firing,  for  the  grimy  operatives  from  the  railway-shops  of  Mar- 
tinsburg  were  to  charge  John  Brown's  little  fort. 

Quantrell  saw  them  deployed  to  assail  the  nearest,  or  watch- 
house  end,  on  three  sides  at  once. 

A  man  was  slinking  out  of  the  column,  and  Ouantrell  recognized 
him. 

"  Contemptible  assassin  !    Give  me  your  gun." 

It  was  the  man  whose  life  Lehman  had  saved,  and  who  had  re- 
turned the  gift  with  death. 

There  was  something  queer  about  the  gun  he  had  wrested  from 
the  man  ;  it  came  open  at  the  breech,  as  if  there  was  a  hinge  in  the 
barrel. 

"Pooh!"  exclaimed  Quantrell,  "this  is  one  of  Hall's  Harper 
Ferry  rifles,  a  Yankee  invention,  thrown  out  by  the  regular  army 
board." 

He  threw  the  gun  down,  yet  lived  to  see  the  day  when  the 
"  breech  was  more  honored  than  the  observance  "  of  military  boards  ; 
for  by  a  similar  needle-gun  the  winding-sheet  of  Napoleonism  came 
to  be  sewed  by  Germany.  America  fought  her  great  civil  war 
loading  muskets  at  the  muzzle,  when  she  could  have  been  foremost 
of  the  nations  with  a  Yankee  breech-loader,  thrown  out  of  Harper's 
Ferry  by  military  bigotry,  twenty  years  before. 

In  the  quick  revulsions  of  a  day  of  action  and  hunger,  intemper- 


I^O  KATY  OF  CATOCrnV. 

ance  and  fear,  mystery  and  passion,  Lloyd  Ouantrell  had  ripped  a 
plank  out  of  the  porch  of  a  small  building  labeled  "  Superintendent's 
Office,"  and  crying.  "  Come  on  !  "  he  dashed  among  the  foremost  of 
the  militia,  from  whom  a  mighty  yell  went  up. 

To  the  yell  the  response  was  the  throwing  open  of  the  engine- 
house  doors. 

Half  a  dozen  boyish  men,  with  John  Brown  at  their  head,  stepped 
upon  the  sward  and  poured  a  little  volley  into  these  hundred  hercu- 
lean militia. 

Among  the  defenders  Quantrell  could  see  the  ashen  face  of 
Watson  Brown,  rallying  up  from  death  and  standing  by  his  rifle. 
His  father  waved  the  sword  of  King  Frederick  and  called  "  Fire !  " 

It  was  but  a  minute  that  this  startling  picture  of  a  handful  of 
farm-boys,  directed  by  an  old  man's  face  in  which  was  the  very 
delight  of  battle,  lasted  upon  the  afternoon.  The  militia,  after  a 
broken  fire,  dispersed  with  groans  and  curses  ;  and  some,  in  the 
frenzy  of  fear,  leaped  the  high  brick  wall  behind  the  block-house, 
astonished  at  their  own  feat  of  strength. 

As  the  defenders  retired,  they  dragged  one  boyish  form  back 
with  them,  which  had  settled  down  upon  its  hands,  as  if  the  liga- 
ments of  the  tough  limbs  had  all  at  once  given  way :  the  face,  of 
unspeakable  emotion,  was  that  of  young  Oliver  Brown  ;  he  looked 
like  one  caught  by  some  reptile  and  bitten  in  twain,  while  he  was 
yet  rejoicing. 

Quantrell  pushed  in  the  round-topped  windows  of  the  watch- 
room  end  of  the  engine-house,  with  the  plank  he  carried,  and  forced 
the  plank  over  the  window-frames. 

"  Break  out ! "  he  shouted,  raising  himself  by  the  wrists  to  the 
window-level ;  "  they  won't  fire  on  you  !  " 

He  also  leaped  over  the  tall  brick  wall  and  fell  into  the  River 
Street,  exhausted. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  released  prisoners  from  the  watch-house 
also  came  up. 

"  Where's  Washington,  and  Alstadt,  and — ole  Ball  ?  "  Quan- 
trell asked. 

"  Why,  ole  Isaac  Smith— he  picked  all  them  big  fish  out  half  a 
hour  ago  and  tuk  'em  in  the  engine-house  part.  '  I  want  you,"  he 
says.  '  And  you  !  And  you  ! '  He's  got  nine  or  ten,  I  reckon,  in 
thar,  yit." 

Lloyd  returned  to  the  Gault  House  saloon  around  the  arsenal 


GAULT  HOUSE.  I9I 

wall,  and  at  the  alley  there  lay  the  dead   Newby  still,  staring  at 
eternity. 

A  strange  quiet  had  fallen  upon  the  town  since  the  determined 
action  of  the  bandits  and  their  easy  defeat  of  the  burly  Martins- 
burgers— several  of  whom  had  received  wounds;  a  quiet  partly 
induced,  too,  by  the  cold-blooded  slaying  of  Lehman,  which  few  had 
seen  without  compassion  and  awe.  There  were  none  in  the  streets 
but  the  dead,  and  all  private  attempts  to  storm  John  Brown's  fort 
ceased  from  that  time  forward. 

Entering  the  Gault  House,  a  man  escaping  from  the  interior  fell 
in  the  dark  into  Quantrell's  arms. 

"Let  me  go!"  the  stranger  cried;  "I've  lost  my  poor  black 
ward.     I'll  have  a  life  for  Heywood  !  " 

The  door  closed  upon  him,  and  Ouantrell  breathlessly  asked  for 
liquor. 

"  Forty  drops  !  "  said  the  saloon-keeper.  "  Come  up  !  " 
It  was  now  that  Beall,  the  young  Virginian,  shook  off  a  portion 
of  his  hard  demeanor  and  commenced  to  ask  Lloyd  the  particulars 
about  Smith's  or  Brown's  band  :  it  seemed  to  have  a  charmed  inter- 
est for  him,  less  to  appease  his  indignation  than  to  awaken  a  latent 
thirst  he  betrayed  for  individual  feats  of  danger,  and  to  concentrate 
his  mind  upon  the  chief  enemies  of  his  State  and  neighborhood. 

"  Tell  me,  sir,  as  nearly  as  you  can,  who  are  the  leaders  in  this 
foray.  We  must  be  sure  to  kill  the  right  ones  ;  the  residue  will  do 
for  the  gallows." 

"  Next  to  Isaac  Smith,"  replied  Lloyd,  "  who  calls  himself  Brown, 
was  Kagi,  who  Hes  dead  up  the  Shenandoah ;  but  the  best  soldier 
of  them  all  is  the  third  in  command,  Captain  Stevens." 

"  We'll  mark  him  !  "  muttered  Beall.  "  What  is  that  coming 
yonder  ?  " 

They  looked  through  the  window,  keeping  well  back  in  the  dark, 
and  saw  four  men  coming  out  of  the  armory-gate ;  two  of  these 
were  unarmed,  and  one  hoisted  a  white  cloth  attached  to  a  stick. 

"That's  Kitz,"  said  one  of  the  voices  in  the  dark;  "t'other's  a 
citizen.     It  seems  to  be  a  flag  of  truce." 

"  I  know  the  men  behind,"  Quantrell  added—"  the  two  with 
rifles ;  the  boyish  figure  is  Ned  Coppock.  He's  a  handsome  fellow, 
and  good-natured.  The  stoutish,  manly  fellow  is  Aaron  Stevens. 
He's  a  lion." 

"  Get  your  gun,"  Beall  said.     "  The  time's  come  for  it !  " 


[92 


KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  All  steady,  now,"  remarked  the  saloon-keeper ;  "  no  one  must 
speak.     I  want  to  let  him  have  every  ball." 

He  raised  the  skeleton-breeched  revolver  to  his  shoulder  and 
took  aim,  the  rest  standing  silently  in  the  rear. 

Right  on  walked  the  four  men,  the  two  hostages  covering  the 
two  raiders  in  front,  until  they  came  abreast  of  the  hotel  beneath 
the  station,  when,  at  a  word  from  Stevens,  the  hostages  stepped 
upon  the  flanks,  thus  opening  to  the  saloon-keeper's  revolver  the 
bodies  of  Stevens  and  Coppock. 

Quantrell,  in  spite  of  his  late  vow  of  "  Death  to  abolitionists  !  "  felt 
that  he  would  give  the  world  to  cry  out  and  plead :  "  It  is  a  flag  of 
mercy.     Do  not  kill  them  !  " 

Proud  of  bearing,  full-bearded,  his  brown  eyes  keen  but  independ- 
ent, his  military  shoulders  carried  erect  without  effort  or  stiffness, 
his  dark-brown  hair  adding  to  the  warmth  of  his  bright  skin  and 
red,  youthful  lips,  Stevens  had  his  gun  across  his  shoulder ;  he  kept 
his  eyes  upon  the  bridge  before  him,  and  walked  on  as  confidently 
as  a  regular  soldier  upon  parade. 

None  in  the  saloon  looked  at  any  other  person ;  this  man  was  so 
strong,  superior,  and  chieftam-like  that  the  light  of  human  eyes 
shone  only  upon  him  and  seemed  to  glaze  him  into  a  Rembrandtish 
brightness  and  halo,  and  they  could  almost  hear  his  broad  lungs 
breathe. 

The  great  pistol  went  off — once,  twice,  thrice  !  Quantrell  shut  his 
eyes. 

Once,  twice,  thrice  again,  it  spoke  metallic  decision,  and  with 
that  regularity  and  inter\'al  of  sound  which  showed  the  perfect  nerve, 
deliberation,  and  aim  of  the  firer. 

The  saloon  was  full  of  sulphur-smell,  but  of  little  smoke. 

Quantrell  opened  his  eyes. 

There  lay  on  the  ground,  a  few  paces  from  the  door,  an  efiigy 
or  broken  stalk  of  man,  nothing  of  it  moving  but  the  broad  chest, 
and  that  with  a  snarling,  convulsive  sound  and  struggle. 

The  hostages  were  not  to  be  seen.  Coppock  was  entering  the 
armory-gate,  and  there  a  little  band  of  the  raiders  poured  out  from 
the  engine-house,  and  he  and  they  fired  with  spirit,  but  only  to  draw 
upon  themselves  a  roaring  volley  from  near  the  bridge,  like  that  of 
soldiery. 

"  Forty  drops,"  said  the  saloon-keeper,  wiping  his  piece  with  a 
yellow  silk  handkerchief.     "  Come  up." 


GAULT  HOUSE. 


193 


Amid  exclamations  of  "  Glorious  !  "  "  Grand  !  "  and  the  sucking 
of  liquids  and  the  shaking  of  hands,  Lloyd  Quantrell  opened  the 
door  and,  despite  the  glancing  of  bullets  over  railroad-iron  and  street- 
gravel,  he  fell  upon  his  hands  and  knees  and  crawled  toward  the 
prostrate  form. 

He  saw  in  an  instant  what  errand  Stevens  had  walked  forth 
upon.  The  Potomac  bridge  was  full  of  soldiery  just  come  from 
Maryland,  and  to  these  Stevens  must  have  been  sent  with  a  propo- 
sition of  surrender  or  truce,  when  the  unrespecting  assassin  had 
emptied  a  revolver  into  his  living  frame. 

"  Now  some  other  citizen  will  surely  be  killed,"  Quantrell  re- 
flected, "  not  only  to  avenge  this  dead  comrade,  but  the  raiders  will 
kill  to  protect  themselves  from  massacre.  I  reckon  their  blood  is 
up." 

A  sound  came  from  the  large  form  stretched  upon  the  ground. 

"  If  you  are  a  man  and  I  am  but  a  dog,  come  to  me  !  " 

There  was  in  this  sound  something  of  involuntary  woe,  hke 
mortal  agony  soliloquizing  to  its  pain,  or  the  "  loud  voice  about  the 
ninth  hour"  on  Calvary,  saying,  ''Eli,  Eli,  lama  sabachthajii?  " 

A  woman  from  the  hotel  ran  toward  the  prostrate  man,  careless 
of  danger  in  the  strong  impulse  of  her  pity,  and  Quantrell  also  rose 
to  his  feet. 

They  lifted  the  body  up ;  it  was  limp,  and  had  nothing  whole  to 
stand  upon — shot  in  the  members,  the  trunk,  the  head,  and  having 
received,  like  a  target  from  a  practiced  hand,  every  ball  where  the 
marksman  thought  fit  to  deliver  it. 

"  Save  him  !  "  screamed  the  woman  ;  "  he  belongs  to  some  home, 
maybe." 

Quantrell  raised  the  body  to  his  shoulder  and  slung  it  there  like 
a  dead  deer,  and  stalked  away  with  it  to  the  hotel  where  he  had 
slept. 

"  Kill  him  !  Drown  him  !  Tear  him  to  pieces  !  "  yelled  many 
voices,  in  the  safe  hiding  of  the  station. 

"  Curs  !  "  exclaimed  Quantrell,  facing  them  once,  "  go  yonder  and 
kill  at  the  engine-house,  where  you  are  fifty  to  one  ! " 

As  he  entered  a  room  in  the  hotel  where  he  was  directed,  an- 
other man  came  forward  and  said,  cheerfully : 

"  Aaron,  do  you  know  me .?  " 

"  Good-by,  Thompson  ! "  sighed  the  bleeding  form. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  die,  Aaron  }  " 
9 


194 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  Not  me,"  Stevens  muttered.     "  Oh,  no  !     Good-by  to  you  !  " 

"  Who  tells  you  that,  Aaron  ?  " 

"  Spirits,"  whispered  the  man,  swooning  away. 

The  room  filled  up  with  drunken,  excited,  or  cowardly  individ- 
uals, uttering  imprecations,  insulting  William  Thompson,  the  pris- 
oner, and  threatening  to  throw  the  body  of  Stevens  out  of  the  win- 
dow. Quantrell  picked  out  a  little  guard  of  weak  but  better-meaning 
men,  and  by  a  doctor's  aid  cleared  the  room. 

"  Thompson,"  he  said,  after  this  exertion,  "  what  labor  you  have 
taken  to  make  all  this  misery  !  " 

"  I  didn't  come,  Mr.  Quantrell,  on  any  picnic.  You  and  me  will 
only  die  once.  I'm  just  as  ready  to  die  for  man  now  as  I  was  yes- 
terday." 

•'  Don't  you  want  to  live  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  Life  never  was  as  sweet  to  me  as  it  is  at  this  min- 
ute, because  it's  so  uncertain  now.  But  I  brought  my  life  along 
and  put  it  in  the  cause ;  and,  if  it's  wanted,  I'll  give  it  to  Liberty." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Quantrell.  "  Liberty  to  slaves,  not  one 
of  whom  has  had  the  courage  to  fight  for  his  own  salvation  !  " 

"  No  nonsense,  Mr.  Quantrell,  to  the  many  millions  more  still  to 
be  born,  and  to  look  back,  perhaps,  to  this  day's  sorrows  for  their 
deliverance.  Women  don't  fight  for  their  freedom,  neither,  but  still 
have  men  gone  to  women's  rescue.  It  was  because  slaves  didn't 
fight  that  we  came  to  fight  for  them." 

The  door  here  burst  open,  and  a  young  man  entered  with  a  gun. 
He  looked  around  an  instant,  and  approached  the  helpless  man  upon 
the  bed.  " 

"  Villain  !  "  he  suddenly  cried,  "you've  killed  my  kinsman,  George 
Turner,  and  I'm  going  to  kill  you  this  minute  !  " 

Before  any  person  could  interfere,  he  had  pulled  the  trigger,  with 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun  at  Stevens's  throat. 

The  lock  fell,  but  the  cap  did  not  explode. 

Stevens  had  been  stripped  naked,  for  the  doctor  to  dress  his 
wounds.  As  Quantrell  sprang  forward,  he  obser\'ed  the  fine  hazel 
eyes  of  Stevens  to  be  wide  open,  and  gazing  with  a  most  undaunted 
calmness  into  the  assassin's  face. 

The  other  man  blanched  before  that  unshaken  fortitude  and  al- 
most eloquent  contempt.  Well  he  might  have  been  alarmed,  also, 
at  the  wounded  man's  athletic  breast,  solid  arms,  great  shoulders, 
and  Apollo-like  strength  in  everything ;  his  white '  body  flawless  ex- 


GAULT  HOUSE. 


195 


cept  where  torn  by  lead,  and  his  soul  reinhabiting  that  mangled 
frame,  like  an  eagle  returned  suddenly  to  its  nest. 

"  If  I  had  a  gun  and  could  get  off  this  bed,"  said  Stevens,  with- 
out an  inflection,  "  you,  and  ten  more  like  you,  would  jump  out  of 
that  window  !  " 

Quantrell  sprang  upon  the  intruder,  who  had  already  retreated 
before  Stevens's  steady  gaze,  and  Lloyd  put  the  door  behind  him. 

"You're  a  great  man,  Stevens,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  said,  looking 
down  at  the  hero  in  admiration.  "  What  made  you  wake  just  at 
that  minute  of  danger  }  " 

"  My  guardian  angel,"  Stevens  sighed,  and  closed  his  eyes  in 
slumber  again. 

Quantrell  locked  the  door  and  stretched  himself  upon  the  floor 
within  it,  and  also  slumbered  a  httle  while.  He  went  to  sleep,  and 
he  awoke  to  the  continual  spluttering  explosions  of  fire-arms. 

As  he  was  relieved  by  other  persons  of  the  watch  in  this  prison- 
er's place,  he  stepped  out  to  the  railroad  platform  in  time  to  see  an 
old,  stout  man  peep  around  the  water-tank,  desperate  to  have  a  shot 
at  the  people  in  the  engine-house. 

The  moment  this  man  peeped,  there  came  a  sound  of  wood 
ripped  by  a  ball. 

"  Tey've  hit  te  tank ! "  exclaimed  the  voice  of  Atzerodt,  at 
Quantrell's  elbow. 

"  They've  hit  the  man,  too,"  Quantrell  said ;  for  he  had  seen  the 
large  form  of  the  old  gentleman  pitch  forward  and  fall  upon  his 
head,  and  there  lie  motionless  upon  the  planks  of  the  platform  he  so 
long  commanded. 

People  dragged  the  old  gentleman  back  by  the  legs  and  laid  him 
beside  his  negro  servant,  stone-dead  ;  black  and  white  man,  loving 
each  other  in  life,  in  death  had  not  long  been  divided. 

"  The  Mayor  of  Harper's  Ferry,"  thought  Quantrell,  "  pays  for 
the  violation  of  the  flag  of  armistice.  I  believe  Ned  Coppock  fired 
that  shot  for  Captain  Stevens." 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  and  whisky  had  done 
its  work  on  many  an  empty  stomach,  while  combat  had  made  cou- 
rageous men  fierce,  and  cowardly  men  bloodthirsty. 

A  cry  arose :  "  Kill  that  prisoner !    Fountain  Beckham's  dead  ! " 

If  the  utterer  of  this  instigation  had  desired,  in  the  same  breath, 
to  call  it  back,  he  would  have  been  too  late. 

The  dead  mayor  had  been  of  a  large  family  connection,  and  liis 


igS  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

cousins  and  nephews  heard  the  cry  of  "  revenge,"  in  Virginia  na- 
tures, where  Scotch  and  pioneer  traits  and  traditions  lay  ever  near 
the  passion  for  private  feud  and  retaliation. 

The  hotel  quickly  filled  up  with  young  men  who  had  not  dared 
to  expose  their  bodies,  like  the  late  rash  and  loving  old  man.  The 
woman  who  had  befriended  Stevens  threw  herself  before  young 
William  Thompson's  body,  and  begged  his  life  in  vain.  He  was 
pushed  and  dragged  toward  the  railway  platform,  and,  for  every 
hand  which  impelled  him  onward,  another  held  a  pistol  to  kill  him. 
Voices  derided  him  ;  and  other  voices  raised  the  yell  of  battle,  thou- 
sands of  times  repeated  in  after-years  among  these  "blue-ridged 
hills." 

"  To  the  bridge !  To  the  bridge  with  him  !  Kill  him  !  Kill 
him  !  " 

Lloyd  Quantrell  saw  his  pointer-dog  leap  joyfully  among  the 
murderers  and  bark  with  all  his  venom,  and  show  his  yellow  eyes, 
and  shake  the  flies  from  his  blood-clotted  ear.  Lloyd  saw  the  dirty 
visage  of  Atzerodt,  crazed  with  the  liquor  his  blood-money  had  pro- 
cured, waving  his  fluttering  hands  and  full  of  white-livered  zeal,  and 
heard  him  shout : 

"  Hang  him  !     Hang  him  to  te  bridge  !  " 

The  crowd  swayed  and  reeled  forward,  and  the  woman  threw 
herself  in  its  path  only  to  be  pulled  aside.  Toward  the  Potomac 
bridge  it  went,  and  skirmishers  before  it,  and  stragglers  behind, 
were  seen  to  be  picking  the  locks  of  rusty  fire-arms,  and  trying  flints 
and  percussion-caps,  in  all  the  ardor  for  human  prey.  The  black 
birds  at  the  chimneys  of  Loudoun  Mountain  circled  there,  indiffer- 
ent to  the  carcass  that  was  being  prepared  for  them  by  mankind. 

Lloyd  Quantrell  determined  to  labor  for  that  man's  life.  He 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Mr.  Beall  at  the  outskirts  of  the  mob  and 
called  to  him  : 

"  Let  us  save  his  life  for  the  law — and  for  shame  !  " 

Beall  shook  his  head,  and  muttered,  with  skull  and  chin  pinched 
together  at  the  thin  lips  : 

"  No,  sir.     He  has  dishonored  Virginia  !  " 

There  were,  however,  some  plaintive  old  Germanic  faces  there, 
ready  to  kindle  to  compassion  when  Quantrell  raised  the  cry : 

"  Give  him  a  chance  !  Don't  murder  him,  gentlemen  !  Don't 
let  us  disgrace  Virginia  !  " 

"  To  hell  mit  him  !  "  cried  Atzerodt.     "  He  kilt  a  good  man." 


GAULT  HOUSE. 


197 


"  Revenge  for  Fountain  Beckham  !  " 

"  Revenge  for  George  Turner  !  " 

"  Revenge  for  Tom  Boerly  !  " 

These  victims'  names  arose  like  tongues  of  fire  amid  the  tiny 
streams  of  pity. 

"  Give  him  a  trial ! "  shouted  Quantrell.  "  You  do  not  know 
who  he  is.     His  blood  may  splash  you  all." 

"  Oh,  yes,  take  time ! "  said  a  tall  old  man.  "  The  law  will 
stretch  his  neck." 

"  Don't  kill  him  here,"  cried  the  woman's  voice  ;  "  the  court  will 
try  him  soon  enough  !  " 

William  Thompson  had  not  spoken  ;  his  face  was  pale  but  with 
manly  submission  in  it,  and  yet  the  love  of  life  rose  to  his  temples 
in  a  great  fervor,  once  or  twice. 

A  man  pointed  a  gun  at  him ;  Thompson  put  his  arms  around 
the  man  and  held  him  close  to  his  breast  and  spoke  across  his 
shoulder  in  the  partial  silence  of  the  hard-breathing  murderers  : 

"  Let  me  say  a  word.  Then  kill  me  if  you  ought  to  !  My  blood 
will  never  put  out  the  fire  started  here  to-day.  A  thousand  lives 
like  mine  won't  do  it — no,  not  a  hundred  thousand  !  Murder  won't 
count  in  favor  of  sin.  Let  all  your  slaves  go  free  !  That's  all  we 
ask.     It's  cheaper  in  the  end  !  " 

"  Down  with  the  abolitionist !  " 

"  Kill  the  blasphemer  !  " 

"  Shoot  the  vile  fanatic  !  " 

They  tried  to  tear  him  fast  from  any  other  man.  Severed  from 
one,  he  grappled  to  himself  another,  in  the  piteous  search  for  some 
one  feeling  breast.  He  spoke  no  more,  except  to  cling  to  living 
frames  and  cover  his  own  with  living  hearts.  The  contest  drew 
tears  from  some,  and  others  closed  their  eyes. 

Finally,  several  men  seized  him  by  pinioning  his  arms,  and  then 
with  their  united  power  hurled  him  from  them. 

Half  a  dozen  guns  went  off.  He  tottered  and  fell  upon  one 
hand.     More  guns  were  discharged. 

"  Father !  "  he  cried,  looking  toward  the  engine-house,  which 
was  concealed  by  the  hotel-building. 

They  fired  upon  him  again  and  again. 

His  eyes,  in  pain  of  death,  without  a  friend  to  call  to,  fell  upon 
Lloyd  Quantrell : 

"  Mr.  Quantrell !   Brother !  " 


198 


A^ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  Drop  !  drop  into  the  river !  "  Ouantrell  shouted,  and  pointed  to 
the  cool  water  below. 

The  dying  man  tottered  to  the  edge  of  the  planks  and  slipped 
through  the  hollow  places  there  and  fell  into  the  roaring  Potomac 
current. 

"  I'll  carry  the  white  flag  this  time  !  "  Ouantrell  said.  "  Nobody 
can  save  him  but  John  Brown  !  " 

He  raised  his  hat  upon  a  rod  and  walked  straight  into  the 
armory-gate  and  disappeared  in  the  engine-house. 

William  Thompson  floated  down  the  current  a  little  way  and 
lodged  against  some  stones. 

A  discharge  of  fire-arms  from  the  bridge  stilled  his  hopes  and 
pains  forever. 

All  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  his  body  was  used  for  a  target- 
match  between  the  gunners,  shooting  from  the  bridge. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

ABEL  QUANTRELL. 

Monday  morning,  at  Jake  Bosler's  farm,  found  corn-shucking 
and  fruit-drj'ing,  pickling  and  stewing  sweets,  the  deep  occupation 
of  the  women,  of  whom  there  were  three,  since  Hannah  Ritner  had 
come  over  from  Smoketown,  uninvited,  at  an  early  hour,  driven  by 
Job  Snowberger,  the  Baptist  monk,  whose  Kloster  (convent)  name 
was  Father  Philodulus. 

Job  had  grown  up  in  the  nunnery  at  Snow  Hill,  just  over  in 
Pennsylvania,  and  was  nearly  the  last  of  the  Monks  of  Seventh 
Day.  He  worked  in  the  fields  with  threefold  energy  of  Sundays, 
but  his  Saturdays  were  deeply  religious  ruminations,  varied  by  the 
singing  of  Beissel's  Ephrata  music,  of  which  he  was  believed  to  be 
the  last  living  renderer. 

To  look  at,  Philodulus  was  a  long,  thin  man  with  little  peepmg 
eyes,  and  one  side  of  his  baggy  face  seemed  cunning  and  blushing, 
and  the  other  side  mystic  and  austere.  He  called  Hannah  Ritner 
"  Shweshter  (sister)  Marcella,"  and  paid  great  deference  to  her, 
while  that  large,  considerate  lady  called  him,  according  to  her 
passing  vein,  "Job,"  "Job  Snow,"  and  "Philodulus." 


ABEL   QUANTRELL.  igg 

At  the  sound  of  "  Job  !  "  uttered  with  Hannah  Ritner's  full  decis- 
ion, the  hermit  celibate  would  start  up  like  a  soldier  to  his  arms  ; 
at  the  practical  address  of  "Job  Snow,"  he  would  look  wise  and 
reproved  ;  when  Hannah  called  him  "Bruder  (brother)  Philodulus," 
blushes  came  to  his  froggy,  loose  skin,  and  he  seemed  about  to  fall 
upon  his  knees. 

Job,  the  monk,  was  now  sorely  tempted,  for  Nelly  Harbaugh, 
with  mischief  hardly  delicate,  had  planted  herself  on  one  side  of 
him  and  had  pushed  him  back  against  the  wall,  while  Katy  Bosler 
was  on  Job's  other  flank,  and  the  kitchen  dresser  kept  her  from 
moving  farther,  and  just  in  front  of  Philodulus  was  a  wash-tub  into 
which  they  all  were  peeling  fruit,  and  across  the  wash-tub  from  Job, 
holding  him  fast,  was  Hannah  Ritner  with  her  great  Jewish  eyes. 

"  Bruder,"  exclaimed  Nelly  Harbaugh,  summoning  Job's  atten- 
tion by  hitting  him  with  her  knee,  and  then  leaning  over  and  taking 
his  thin,  furzy  beard  in  her  hand,  "  would  you  take  me  into  the  Sie- 
bentager  and  let  me  be  your  own  little  nun  .>  " 

"  Nay,  tinfershamed,  barefaced !  you  would  possess  the  whole 
kloster  soon." 

The  mystic  and  austere  side  of  Job's  face  was,  nevertheless,  trem- 
bling a  little,  and  he  leaned  toward  Katy  Bosler's  large,  modest  eyes, 
and  then  the  cunning  and  blushing  side  grew  all  dimpled  as  he 
piped  in  his  high,  falsetto  voice : 

"  Sister  Kate,  you  would  not  ask  me  that  ?  " 

Katy,  full  of  laughter,  cried  : 

"  Oh,  you  would  not  invite  me  !     I'm  too  little." 

"  Unshuldzch,"  breathed  the  old  bachelor,  "sweet  innocent,  I  do." 

"Job  Snow!"  Hannah  Ritner  spoke,  with  recaUing  common 
sense. 

"  There  is  a  difference,"  the  brother  said,  throwing  away  the  ap- 
ple and  dropping  the  apple-peeling  in  the  tub ;  "  te  invitation  of 
Nelly  is  to  mock  me.  UnshickUch  I  "  (Nelly  had  taken  his  hand 
with  well-feigned  rapture.)  "  I  turn  to  Katy  for  to  git  purity.  Te 
world  will  take  advantage  of  so  much  goodness,  and  in  our  quiet 
convent  we  live  like  Him  of  old — like  Yasus." 

"Philodulus,"  Hannah  Ritner  spoke  in  her  low,  great  voice, 
"  when  our  sex  is  old  and  poor,  then  invite  them  to  your  rest ;  but 
the  world  would  misunderstand  young  converts,  like  these  maidens, 
appearing  at  Snow  Hill." 

"  Nay,  Sister  Marcella,  te  first  of  te  Vorsteher  Beissel's  tisciples 


200  J^ATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

was  two  married  women,  and  one  of  those,  Maria  Sower,  was  very 
beautiful.  It  was  her  beauty  he  resisted  with  all  his  prayers,  but 
half  his  psalms  her  beauty  was  te  music  of." 

"  Sing  to  my  eyes,  Job  ! "  Nelly  Harbaugh  entreated. — "  Han- 
nah, he  daresn't  look  at  me  without  blushing." 

"  Oh,  sing  to  my  love  !  "  Katy  involuntarily  added,  "  and  I  will 
play,  Job,  on  te  accordion." 

"That  is  gone,  Kate,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh  ;  "you've  given  all 
your  music  away." 

"  Nay,"  Job  Snowberger  said,  "  I'll  sing  for  Katy  te  mourning- 
dove  piece  py  Friedsam,  when  his  soul  was  at  peace,  and  love 
plagued  it  no  more." 

"Philodulus,"  Hannah  Ritner  sighed,  "love  plagiies  to  the  last. 
Often,  in  my  girlhood,  have  I  seen  the  Dunker  nuns,  at  Ephrata  and 
Snow  Hill,  carrying  a  lamb  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  '  Yasus,' 
and  dandled  it  upon  their  knees — it  was  the  substitute  for  Nature's 
human  babe,  and  they  professed  to  be  in  a  mystical  union  with  its 
divine  namesake.  But  while  the  women  at  the  nunnery  played  the 
mother  with  these  substitutes  till  themselves  grew  old  and  withered, 
how  many  of  the  monks  fell  away  from  grace  and  married,  long  after 
domestic  happiness  had  passed  its  day !  " 

"  I  am  te  last,"  said  Job  Snowberger,  "and  I  will  persewere." 

"  Pure,  good  man  !  Kiss  him,  Katy,  and  encourage  him  to  per- 
sewere." 

Nelly  Harbaugh,  speaking,  grasped  Job  Snowberger's  head  in 
both  her  strong  hands,  and  kissed  him  down  upon  Katy,  who  sat 
imprisoned  there ;  and  she,  seeing  no  escape,  and  somewhat  in  the 
mischief  of  the  moment,  also  gave  the  monk  of  fifty-five  a  httle  timid 
kiss. 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  rapid  changes  of  austerity 
and  weakness. 

"  UnshickUch — improper  one  !  "  he  spoke  to  Nelly  Harbaugh  ; 
and  then,  turning  to  Katy,  his  face  melted  in  all  its  harsher  lines  as 
he  gave  back  her  kiss  and  piped  high,  "  Unshuldich  !  " — the  in- 
nocent. 

"Job  !  "  spoke  Hannah  Ritner. 

He  looked  at  her,  thus  in  Saint  Anthony's  temptation,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

Katy  was  frightened.  Nelly  was  studying  Philodulus,  the  monk, 
with  joyful  analysis. 


ABEL    QUANTRELL.  20I 

"  My  children,"  Hannah  Ritner  said,  looking  with  tender  humor 
on  the  scene,  "  whichever  way  you  go  with  Love,  or  go  without  him, 
he  makes  you  cry.  His  pleasantest  mood  is  spring,  with  little 
showers  of  tears.  His  summer  zest  is  thunderstorm  among  these 
mountains.  If  Love  deserts  you,  it  is  winter  and  frozen  tears.  But 
if  he  never  comes  at  all,  you  cry,  you  know  net  why." 

She  looked  at  the  poor  man  and  gave  him  some  cider  to  drink, 
fresh  from  the  press. 

"  Brother  Philodulus,  swallow  your  tears,  as  they  drop  into  the 
cider ;  for  they  will  come  up  many  times  again,  and,  after  all,  the 
tears  of  love  are  sweet — even  those  we  shed  to  reject  love." 

He  sat  down  at  her  counsel,  and  behaved  like  a  little  boy,  doing 
whatever  was  requested  of  him ;  and  while  they  continued  to  peel 
apples,  pears,  and  quinces,  a  sound  came  in  at  the  window — 

"  Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo !  " 

"  It  is  te  doves,"  Katy  said.  "  It's  most  time,  I  think,  for  tern  to 
go  South.  Tey  are  waiting  for  te  young  ones  to  pe  smart  enough  to 
fly.     Tey  puilt  te  nest  last  April.     Come  see  it,  Job." 

Job  Snowberger's  hand  Katy  confidingly  took  in  hers,  and  led 
him  out  to  a  low  apple-tree  nearly  touching  the  house. 

Upon  a  crotch  of  this  tree,  lower  than  their  heads,  sat,  in  an 
humble  nest  of  dry  grasses,  two  brown  young  doves.  Above  them, 
on  the  same  bough,  sat,  side  by  side,  the  parent  birds,  unfluttered 
by  visitors,  and  in  brown  and  chestnut  plumage  and  slate-colored 
crowns,  cooing  together. 

"  Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo ! " 

The  little  family  had  no  brilliant  marks  upon  them  except  a 
patch  of  bare  pink  skin  under  their  chestnut-colored  eyes,  and  toes 
of  brownish  red  clinging  to  the  boughs.  A  little  purple  warmed 
their  breasts,  which  beat  like  Katy's  little  form  beneath  her  brown 
gown. 

"  Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo  !  "  murmured  both  the  old  doves  and  the 
young  ones,  also,  as  Katy  came  near. 

"  Tey  are  full  of  love.  Job,"  Katy  said  ;  "  tey  will  fly  down  among 
te  chickens  and  eat,  and  drink  out  of  te  trough  py  te  horses.  Tey 
are  shy,  but  not  suspicious.  Two  eggs  is  all  te  she-bird  lays,  and 
she  hatches  out  of  tern  always  a  he-bird  and  a  she." 

"  What  for  ?  "  Job  Snowberger  asked,  with  his  austere  side  ag- 
gressive, after  his  late  display  of  weakness. 

"  O  Job  !  "  said  Katy,  "why,  you  know — to  love  one  another !  " 


202  KATY  OF  C A  TO  C  TIN. 

Job's  half-shut  eyes  looked  down  at  Katy  with  an  idiotic  smile 
as  he  murmured,  half  harshly  : 

"  Uttshuldich  !  " 

"Oh  no,  Job.  I'm  not  '  innocent '  like  I  was  yisterday;  I'm  in 
love,  too." 

"  UnshickUch,  Katy  !  " 

"  No,  indeed.  It  can't  be  *  improper  '  if  it  comes  like  religion, 
dear  Job.     That's  te  way  mine  come  to  me." 

"  Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo,"  assented  the  she-dove  from  the  tree,  and 
sidling  down  the  bough  toward  Katy. 

"  Te  she-dove  never  trifles  with  another  he-bird,"  Katy  said, 
"like  so  many  other  kinds  of  birds.  I've  set  and  watched 
those,  ever  since  te  15th  of  April,  when  tey  come  here  from  te 
South.  He's  all  attention  to  her,  too,  and  cares  for  no  bird 
else." 

"  Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo !  "  emphatically,  from  the  tree,  as  the  male 
bird  trailed  his  wings,  and  puffed  his  breast  up  large,  and  paraded 
before  his  lady,  and  then  fed  her  from  his  own  bill. 

"  UnshickUch  !  "  improper,  intimated  Brother  Philodulus,  with 
a  feminine  turn  of  his  head.  "  Katy,  I  can  do  something  tender, 
too.     I  can  sing  the  turtle-dove  psalm." 

"  Do,  Job  !  My  mate  has  taken  my  music  with  him,  or  I  would 
help  you  a  little." 

Job  Snowberger,  with  a  straightening  of  his  lean  figure  and  an 
expression  between  ecstasy  and  childishness,  piped  in  the  German 
tongue  a  little  psalm  we  may  translate  together : 

SEVENTH-DAY   DUNKER   HYMN. 

"  Coo-roo,"  the  turtle-dove  complains, 

Whose  spouse  comes  never  near. 
And  leaves  her,  with  a  mother's  pains, 

Un-nested  all  the  year: 
"  Coo-roo-ah-coo,"  the  birdling  true 

Doth  with  itself  condole — 
So  does  the  dove  of  Yasus  coo 

In  every  lonely  soul. 

"  Coo-roo,"  the  stricken  monk  or  nun 

Within  the  kloster  sighs, 
By  human  sin  or  love  undone. 

And  hid  from  human  eyes  : 


ABEL   QUANTRELL.  203 

"  Coo-rooah-coo  ! "   that  mate  untrue 

Still  fills  dear  Yasus'  place, 
And  you  can  hear  the  turtle  coo 

In  her  despairing  face. 

"  Coo-roo,"  beside  Ephrata's  brooks 

And  in  Antietam's  vale, 
Comes  in  between  the  martyr-books 

The  tender  human  tale  : 
"Coo-roo,"  to  Peter  Miller,  too, 

To  Beissel  and  to  all — 
The  turtle-dove  so  soft  will  coo, 

It  seems  like  Yasus'  call  1 

*'  Coo-roo  !  "  in  vain  we  fly  from  Love, 

And  world  and  flesh  attack, 
In  vain  we  kill  the  human  dove 

And  set  the  Sabbath  back  ; 
' '  Coo-roo-ah-coo  !  "  Love  will  undo 

The  washing  white  of  springs, 
And  only  Yasus  never  knew 

How  strong  the  turtle  sings. 

"  Coo-roo  !  "  in  Zion's  wooden  house, 

In  Kedar's  shingled  cells. 
Softer  than  lowing  of  the  cows 

The  note  of  passion  wells. 
"  Coo-roo-ah-coo  ! "  like  wood  unto 

Whereon  was  Yasus  bound, 
Our  prison  seems  ;  and  every  coo 

Tears  wide  a  bleeding  wound. 

"  Coo-roo  !  "  sing,  more  celestial  Dove, 

In  notes  aye  pure  and  clear, 
To  drown  this  strong,  terrestrial  love 

And  help  us  persevere  ! 
"  Coo-roo-ah-coo ! "  dear  Yasus,  who 

No  frailty  turned  aside, 
Thy  Dove  set  in  the  himmel  blue. 

And  keep  our  Church  thy  bride  ! 

Job  Snowberger's  singing  had  method  in  it,  and  caused  himself 
to  weep.  Katy  saw  him  standing  there  in  his  coarse,  home-woven 
and  home-dyed  clothes,  sewn  together  by  the  hands  of  women  who 


204  J^ATY  OF  CATOCTIN, 

had  no  deeper  interest  in  man  than  as  a  fellow-laborer,  and  she  took 
her  needle  and  pieced  him  together,  saying — 

"  Dear  Job,  you  have  got  nobody  to  love  you." 

"  Unshicklich  !  "  exploded  Philodulus,  referring  to  the  needle- 
work, and  then,  raising  his  bashful  eyes  to  Katy's  face,  he  qualified 
the  remark  to  "  UTishuldich." 

"  Nobody  will  love  me,"  Job  exclaimed,  "  but  Sister  Marcella,  and 
she  only  loves  me  to  send  me  on  arrands.  I'm  only  one  of  her  nig- 
gers, and  she  has  many  of  tern.  Katy,  can't  you  jine  the  kloster 
and  help  me  persewere  ?  " 

"  Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo  !  "  The  doves  had  sidled  together  in  the 
apple-tree. 

"  Why,  dear  Job,  I  am  in  love  already.  I  am  engaged  to  a  young 
man.  See,  his  mother's  ring  is  on  my  finger !  And  he  has  took  my 
accordion.     Oh,  I  am  so  happy  !  " 

"  Uiishicklich  I  Unshuldich,  too !  No  good  will  come  of  it, 
schwester  Kate  !  Oh,  come  and  jine  the  good  Siebentager  and  help 
me  persewere ! " 

Job  had  already  burst  open  his  late  repairs ;  for,  indeed,  his 
clothes  were  too  small  for  him,  and  his  emotions  had  the  effect  of 
wind  in  the  laden  apple-trees,  bringing  all  their  ripeness  to  the 
ground.  He  threw  his  arms  around  Katy,  and,  in  ecstasy  of  groans 
and  tears,  piped  high  : 

"  Oh,  can't  we  persewere  together,  Katy  !  It  is  so  hard  to  per- 
sewere alone.  I  can't  remember  nothing :  the  music-writin'  gits 
blotted  ;  the  saw-mill  runs  wrong ;  the  fullin'-mill  wants  ile,  the 
cider-press  tastes  of  rotten  apples.  Come,  come,  schwester,  to 
Schneeberg  and  te  heilich  life  !  " 

"  Ah-coo-roo-coo-roo  ! "  very  firmly,  from  the  dove  family  in  the 
tree. 

"  Don't  kiss  me  so  hard.  Job !  "  Katy  cried,  fighting  in  vain 
against  the  tall  man's  impassioned  caresses.  "  It's  real  utishicklich 
in  you,  for  I'm  going  to  marry  another  man." 

"  Oh,  who  is  it  ?     He  must  be  some  sinful  one." 

"  No,  indeed.  Job  ;  it's  a  Mr.  Quantrell !  " 

"  Hallo  !  "  spoke  a  strange  voice.  "  How  do  you  know  me,  in- 
deed .'' — And  what  rummaging  are  you  engaged  at,  Snowberger .'' 
Fine  hypocrite,  you  !  " 

"  Persewerin',"  Philodulus  said,  sheepishly ;  "  we  was  persewerin' 
together." 


ABEL   QUANTRELL.  205 

"  No  doubt,"  said  a  strange  lame  man,  standing  before  them  ; 
"  persewering  and  perspiring,  too  ! — Young  woman,  you're  in  a  fair 
way  to  become  a  convert,  unless  your  people  look  more  carefully 
after  you ! " 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  Katy  spoke  ;  "  I  do  not  understand." 

"  You  ought  to  know  me.  You  have  just  mentioned  my  name. 
I  am  Abel  Ouantrell,  of  Baltimore.  And  where  is  Hannah  Rit- 
ner.?  " 

"  Here,  master ! "  spoke  an  eloquent  voice  at  the  window ;  "  I 
heard  you  were  coming,  and  had  you  directed  to  this  friend's  retired 
farm  ;  for  I  was  all  alone  at  Smoketown,  and  the  time  was  full  of 
portents.  O  master,  if  I  ever  needed  help  and  a  strong  hand  to 
lean  upon,  it  is  to-day  !  " 

"  Sho !  Sho !  Ninon,  I  see  you  are  nervous  to-day.  Cube 
yourself !  The  root  is  the  soul.  Cube  yourself !  Some  unusually 
Quixotic  undertaking,  perhaps  }  O  child,  I  feel  for  you — extract- 
ing the  cube-root  of  all  this  wrong,  without  the  help  of  man  ! " 

"  Be  tender  with  me,  master.  Oh,  come  and  counsel  me  !  The 
time  is  so  short ;  the  mountains  are  so  dark  ;  I  can  not  read  beyond 
them.     I  am  so  lonely  !  " 

He  led  her  toward  the  dairy,  near  the  creek,  and  on  the  grass 
they  talked  together  until  Nelly  Harbaugh  took  out  chairs  for  them, 
and  then  they  talked  still  on,  till  Luther  came  in,  at  dinner,  hearing 
the  sounding  of  the  bell,  and  put  up  the  strange  gentleman's  horse 
and  buggy. 

Mr.  Abel  Quantrell  came  in  to  dine,  and  looked  at  Katy  and  at 
Nelly  with  a  sort  of  sardonic  admiration.  At  Nelly  he  looked  with 
bold  favor ;  at  Katy  with  no  more  interest  than  as  at  a  hoyden  child 
he  had  found  in  an  old  man's  arms. 

Katy  was  afraid  of  this  strange  man,  and  some  great  distress 
seemed  overhanging  in  his  wonderful  appearance  here,  the  very  day 
after  her  lover  had  come  and  gone.  She  was  too  unworldly  and 
ignorant  to  understand  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  any  error,  or  to 
know  how  to  extricate  herself,  and  be  recommended  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  will  leave  it  to  God,"  said  Katy,  inwardly.  "  He  must  know 
what  to  do  with  me." 

Nelly  Harbaugh  was  soon  in  a  running  skirmish  of  merry  and 
satirical  talk  with  Abel  Ouantrell. 

He  was  a  man  not  to  be  forgotten  nor  confounded  with  any 
other,  and  even  the  splendid  carriage  of  Hannah  Ritner  Seemed  to 


2o6  /iTATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 

lose  its  superiority  under  Abel  Quantrell's  plain  but  strong  address 
and  countenance. 

In  the  first  place,  he  was  a  deformed  man :  one  of  his  legs  was 
shorter  than  the  other,  or  the  foot  was  clubbed  ;  for  he  walked  by 
the  aid  of  a  cane,  without  labor  or  any  look  of  pain,  and  with  a  cer- 
tain enforced  erectness  which  had  imparted  a  spirit  of  will,  or  de- 
fiance, or  triumph,  to  the  carriage  of  his  head,  the  swell  of  his  nos- 
trils, the  firm  parallels  of  his  eyebrows  and  lips,  and  even  to  the 
poise  of  a  dark  wig,  younger  in  tone  than  the  lights  in  his  eyes, 
which  were  faded,  spite  of  their  fateful  and  inflexible  cast. 

His  face  was  all  shaved  clean ;  a  standing  collar  barely  showed 
the  gray  hairs  brushed  beneath  his  throat  upon  the  parchment- 
colored  sinews  there.  At  times,  unconsciously,  or  from  habit,  he 
thrust  his  hand  into  the  clean,  starched,  simple  bosom  of  his  shirt, 
and  then  he  seemed,  to  those  observing  him,  like  one  whose  back 
was  against  a  wall. 

But  for  his  lameness  he  would  have  been  a  man  above  the  usual 
stature,  and  at  this  table  he  was  easily  the  chief,  as  if  a  magistrate 
had  come  in,  but  not  to  depress  anybody's  spirits.  His  face  was 
without  any  ruddy  color,  and  the  black  wig  gave  it  a  certain  pallor 
as  if  he  were  older  than  he  seemed. 

No  Christian  resignation  was  in  Abel  Quantrell's  portrait — rather 
the  heathen  philosopher's  stoic  will  and  coolness.  In  repose,  he 
seemed  an  orator  with  something  in  his  bosom  to  defend,  and  cov- 
ered there  by  his  pallid  hand ;  out  of  repose,  his  face  assumed  a 
certain  earthiness  and  self-love,  sometimes  to  the  degree  of  coarse- 
ness, and  this  may  have  been  why  Nelly  Harbaugh  soonest  grew 
upon  easy  terms  with  him  and  drew  from  him  some  particulars  of 
his  career. 

"  You  seem  at  home  among  us  Swiss  and  Dutch,  and  find  your 
way  about  like  an  old  nochber?  " 

"  Ya'w,yung  maidle"  Abel  Quantrell  said,  "  I  came  among  the 
old  Dutch  before  your  mother  had  a  beau.  I  was  the  square  root 
extracted  from  a  small  New  England  family  of  thirteen — the  oldest, 
my  little  mother — and  as  I  had  kept  them  poor  to  send  me  to  col- 
lege, I  needs  must  feed  them  all.  '  Cube  yourself,  Abel,'  said  I ;  '  a 
few  years  at  school-teaching  will  make  you  a  lawyer,  and  then  you 
can  educate  your  little  brothers  and  sisters,  and  set  them  on  the 
way  to  love  and  independence.'  Sho,  sho  !  The  Scotch-Irish  bar, 
at  the  town  where  I  taught  their  college,  passed  a  rule,  especially 


ABEL   QUANTRELL.  20/ 

for  me,  that  no  school-teacher  could  enter  at  the  law.  They  knew 
I  was  too  poor  to  sit  with  my  legs  out  of  a  lawyer's  window  study- 
ing for  two  years,  and  let  my  mother  starve  !  " 

"  What  did  you  do,  sir  ?  "  Luther  Bosler  asked,  sitting,  like  his 
father,  at  the  table  in  his  shirt-sleeves. 

"  I  merely  cubed  the  radius,"  Abel  Quantrell  said,  with  a  firmer 
grip  of  his  upper  lip  upon  the  lip  below — that  lip  which  seemed 
beaked,  while  his  nose  was  straight  as  an  index-board.  "  I  rode 
over  into  Mary-land  and  sat  up  with  the  bar  of  the  nearest  county 
there,  judge  and  all,  and  played  a  good  hand  at  cards,  and  staked 
my  quarter's  salary.  They  asked  me  a  sleepy  question  or  two  at 
daylight  and  passed  me  into  the  law.  So  I  extracted  the  square 
root  of  Pennsylvania  smallness  and  moved  my  habitation  to  an- 
other Dutch  county." 

"Te  Dunkers  do  not  go  to  law,"  ventured  Katy  Bosler. 

"  Bi'm-by,"  Jake  Bosler  ejaculated,  fearing  that  they  had  already 
leanings  that  way. 

"  No,  bright  eyes  !  And  that  was  what  took  the  square  root 
out  of  my  triumph.  I  could  get  love  in  too  generous  measure,  but 
business  never  came.  Here  sits  a  pupil  of  mine  :  let  Ninon  tell  the 
rest." 

He  turned  to  Hannah  Ritner.  She  swept  his  pallid  and  volcano- 
scarred  face  with  eyes  of  woe  and  pride,  and  answered  : 

"  Master,  you  found  your  only  client,  after  waiting  long — in  a 
murderer.  He  had  taken  a  human  life,  but  by  his  crime  you  and 
your  mother's  brood  found  food.  His  case  was  so  bad  that  they 
gave  him  to  you  to  defend  him,  in  mockery  of  your  hard  condition, 
for  you  received  not  one  penny  for  your  toil." 

"  Sho,  sho  !  "  from  Abel  Quantrell ;  "  I  cubed  myself,  though." 

"  The  eloquence  of  genius  in  the  occasion  of  despair  burst  from 
you  like  a  torrent.  The  murderer  became,  in  your  impetuosity,  your 
only  friend.  His  dark  and  stony  nature  poured  forth  the  springs  of 
fervent  tears.  The  judge  sat  trembling,  your  rivals  were  astonished 
and  abashed.  All  German-derived  people,  after  that,  went  to  you 
with  their  suits  and  cases,  and  found  you  just  as  God.  You  left  us, 
then,  for  greater  fields  of  use,  and,  by  prosperity,  you  fell  to  be  a 
man !  " 

"Nothin'  but  persewerin',"  from  the  old-maidish  face  of  Job 
Snowberger,  with  his  sheepish  and  insinuating  side  still  set  on 
Katy. 


2o8  KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 

"  Job  Snow,"  Hannah  Ritner  commanded,  '*  be  more  respectful 
to  my  dear  master  !  " 

"  Bi'm-by,"  meaninglessly  from  Jake  Bosler,  who  executed  the 
parental  feat  of  throwing  some  corn  "  slappers  "  with  his  fingers  into 
Katy's  plate,  a  yard  distant. 

Only  Nelly  Harbaugh  seemed  to  blush  at  this  homely  method  of 
serving  food. 

"  Teacher,"  Nelly  said  to  Abel  Quantrell,  "  which  is  best  to  live 
for — affection  or  greatness  }  " 

"  I  have  had  all  my  happiness  in  career,"  replied  the  old  man, 
with  his  pallid  hand  in  his  bosom,  laid  firmly  on  his  heart.  His 
eyes,  ranging  around  the  table,  rested  with  some  kindling  embers 
of  power  upon  Luther  Bosler.  "  My  career,  for  a  quarter  of  a  cent- 
ury, was  to  fight  Power.  Sometimes  I  fought  it  when  it  was  right- 
ful power — not  often.  For  power,  as  I  found  it  in  my  exile  in 
these  Middle  States,  was  the  power  of  old  sociability,  of  cliques 
and  lodges,  of  amiable  ignorance  and  deadly  prejudice  resisting  in- 
novation. This  dull  majority  had  sat  upon  my  heel ;  I  turned  and 
bruised  its  head." 

"  Soon-down,  Luter.  Bi'm-by  !  "  from  Jake  Bosler,  toward  his 
son,  glancing  at  the  half-plowed  fields. 

Jake  had  taken  off  his  shoe,  and  was  examining  his  not  very 
sightly  foot  with  an  eye  to  stone-bruises.  No  spirituality  in  the 
conversation  bribed  him  from  thrifty  thinking  on  his  crops. 

"  Retaliation  is  not  the  spirit  our  Lord  changed  this  world  in," 
Luther  Bosler  said,  his  dark  eyes  intelligently  following  Abel  Quan- 
trell. 

Hannah  Ritner's  eyes  shone  with  all  their  might  of  compassion, 
as  she  turned  on  Luther,  before  the  old  man  could  speak  the  repar- 
tee his  folded  lip  concealed  : 

"  Sir,  Master  Quantrell 's  retaliations  were  never  upon  the  weak. 
He  soared  among  the  eagles  in  his  indignations.  We  humble  Ger- 
mans he  led  by  the  hand  as  high  as  we  could  go,  and  there  we  saw 
him  battling  with  the  power  enthroned  in  the  sun.  He  defended 
slaves  escaping  over  the  free-State  line.  He  assailed  Freemasonry 
in  its  brutality  toward  a  human  life.  He  broke  the  power  of  igno- 
rance in  Pennsylvania  and  made  Education  one  of  the  tyrants  there, 
with  the  power  to  tax,  like  forked  lightning  in  its  hands.  We  slug- 
gish Germans  did  not  always  understand  him  ;  we  had  not  his  mer- 
curial sensitiveness  to  the  injuries  of  simple  multitudes — of  women, 


ABEL   QUANTRELL.  209 

of  illiterate  children,  of  poor,  black  slaves.  But  we  felt  that  some- 
thing of  Messiah  had  come  among  us  with  righteousness  in  his 
hands,  and  we  set  him  in  the  seats  of  power  until — " 

"  The  lower  Yankee  interest  in  his  nature  made  him  desert  you," 
said  Abel  Quantrell,  bitterly.  "  Yes,  Ninon,  I  gave  myself  to  career 
like  the  bright,  impetuous  waters  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  which  at 
last  subside  in  the  shallow  and  malarious  estuaries  of  the  bay.  I 
laid  down  career,  and  I  am  dead.  Look  at  me — whited,  withered, 
wigged,  and  limping !     Have  I  not  thrown  myself  away  }  " 

"  No,  master ! "  the  woman  answered  in  fervent  eloquence.  "  The 
world  has  captured  you,  but  not  your  principles,  and,  like  our  old 
German  emperor,  Barbarossa,  you  sleep  in  the  cavern  till  the  free- 
dom of  our  land  shall  awaken  you." 

"  I  have  a  son,"  the  old  man  said.  "  In  him  I  may  awake,  but 
never  again  in  my  enfettered  self." 

Katy  cried,  before  she  could  think  :  "  Oh,  he  was  here  !  We  took 
Lloyd  to  love-feast.     He  eat  with  us  Dunkers  last  Sunday." 

"  Sho,  sho  !  No  doubt  he  multiplied  the  base  and  height  of 
himself  together  and  the  product  by  the  breadth.  The  cube  result- 
ing is  still  a  baby's  block." 

"  He  is  a  manly  lad,  master  !  "  said  Hannah  Ritner,  with  her 
great  eyes  downcast.     "  Something  of  his  father  is  there." 

"  Yes,"  said  Abel  Quantrell,  languidly,  "  the  complement  of  his 
father :  he  will  be  as  rash  to  support  power  that  is  false,  as  I  was  to 
attack  it.  In  my  rowdy  son,  I  see  the  compensation  of  my  own  self- 
indulgence." 

"  It  is  not  true  !  "  Katy  cried  ;  "  Lloyd  is  a  gentleman.  He  eat  te 
Passover ! " 

"  I  guess  he's  purty  bad,  Katy,"  Job  Snowberger  said.  "  He 
ain't  a-persewerin'." 

"Job  Snozu/"  from  Hannah  Ritner,  "where  is  your  char- 
ity }  " 

"  Come,  Ninon,"  said  Abel  Quantrell,  with  lessening  interest  in 
the  subject ;  "  I  must  have  my  game  of  cards." 

Luther  Bosler  and  his  father  went  back  to  the  field  ;  Katy  and 
Nelly  and  Job  Snowberger  went  to  fruit-peeling  again;  Hannah 
Ritner  and  Abel  Quantrell  had  chairs  under  a  tree  near  the  creek, 
and  a  barrel-head  furnished  them  a  table ;  from  the  dwelling  they 
could  be  seen  playing  for  Spanish  silver  pieces. 

Katy  was  still  and  troubled,  Nelly  Harbaugh  no  less  preoccu- 


2IO  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

pied  and  silent,  and  Job  Snowberger,  the  only  talking  quantity  left, 
got  no  reply  for  his  chance  remarks. 

"  Katy,"  he  said  at  last,  "you  is  so  still,  I  think  you  want  to 
come  to  Kloster  Schneeberg." 

"  Oh,  you  old  fool !  "  Nelly  Harbaugh  spoke,  "  what  does  she  want 
with  your  old  stupid  nunnery?     We  women  want  career." 

She  glanced  at  Katy,  who  looked  up,  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  and 
said : 

"  Nelly,  what  makes  me  so  ignorant }  " 

"  Goodness,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  answered. 


CHAPTER   XXn. 

THE   YANKEE. 

Till  late  in  the  day  Abel  Ouantrell  played  euchre  with  a  spirit 
compounded  of  gain  and  hazard,  his  opponent  sometimes  requiring 
to  be  stirred  from  her  abstraction,  yet  seeking  to  engage  him  with 
all  her  irregular  solicitude. 

Finally,  the  old  man,  as  she  studied  a  careful  play,  closed  his 
eyes,  and  when  she  was  ready,  he  did  not  respond. 

The  sun  was  growing  low,  and  Hannah  Ritner  placed  her  chair 
so  as  to  shield  him  from  its  glancing  rays,  as  they  were  dandled  on 
the  South  Mountain's  crest. 

"  Oh,  that  this  day  would  bring  its  result !  "  she  sighed  aloud. 

A  head  was  in  her  lap  and  a  kiss  upon  her  hand ;  she  looked 
down,  and  Katy  Bosler  was  kneeling  on  the  ground. 

"  What  is  it,  simple  child  }  " 

"  My  ring,"  v/hispered  Katy.     "  He  wants  it." 

She  pointed  at  Abel  Ouantrell,  sleeping. 

Katy  held  up  the  mourning  ring  of  Lloyd  Quantrell's  mother. 

"  Fortune-teller ! "  said  Katy.  "  this  ring  Lloyd's  mother  was 
married  with.  Oh,  must  I  lose  it,  as  you  told  me  I  would  }  Can't 
nothing  save  it  for  me  }  It  is  all  I  haf,  since  I  gif  Lloyd  my  accor- 
dion." 

Hannah  Ritner  looked  at  the  ring. 

"  It  is  sanctified  by  death,"  she  said.  "  Lord  rest  the  soul  who 
made  this  ring  so  dear !  " 


THE    YANKEE.  211 

"  Lord,  let  that  soul  be  kind  to  me  !  "  responded  Katy,  ferv^ently. 
"  I  only  want  to  gif  myself  to  Lloyd,  and  nothing  selfish  haf  I  got 
but  love — te  first  of  love  I  ever  felt.  How  strong  it  is,  Mootter  Han- 
nah ! " 

"  Drive  it  away,  my  child  !  Exert  your  mind  to  be  free  I  Rings 
like  this  were  never  made  to  be  worn  by  poor,  ignorant  girls.  Give 
this  ring  to  me,  and  I  will  wear  it  for  you,  and  then  it  never  may  be 
lost." 

"  You,  Mootter  Hannah  !  Haf  you  got  te  power  to  keep  it  always 
for  me  ?  If  I  gif  it  to  you  now,  maybe  I  will  lose  it,  all  py  myself, 
and  pe  foolish." 

"  Hush,  Katy  !  "  Hannah  Ritner  pointed  to  the  sleeping  sire  of 
Lloyd  Quantrell.     "  Leave  it  with  me  to  conjure  with  awhile." 

She  slipped  the  ring  upon  her  hand,  and  Katy  stole  away. 

Abel  Quantrell  opened  his  eyes  and  said  : 

"  The  square  of  self  is  but  half  selfish  ;  but  the  cube  of  self  has 
higher  walls  than  angels  ever  scale.  Plato,  with  all  his  divine  reach, 
could  never  solve  the  problem  which  had  bafifled  the  oracle  of 
Apollo." 

"  Dear  master,  what  was  that  ?  " 

"  To  start  with  one's  self-indulgence  and  multiply  it  into  a  sacri- 
fice ;  to  double  the  cube.  Geometry,  no  more  than  an  oracle,  can 
do  it." 

"Master,  you  have  always  defended  the  poor." 

"  Sho,  sho  !  Too  often  from  pugnacity,  reasoning  from  them  to 
my  own  fancied  injuries.  The  humility  of  the  Nazarene  never  was 
in  me.     He  who  seeks  to  save  his  life  shall  lose  it,  Ninon." 

"  Master,  have  I  not  been  seeking  to  save  my  life  by  losing  it  ? 
Are  we  ever  all  unselfish  ?  " 

"  You  have  been,  or  sacrifice  has  no  God,  my  child !  If  ever 
love  was  willful,  suicidal,  and  martyr-minded,  it  was  yours.  I  offered 
you  myself,  and  you  refused  me :  with  every  right  to  me,  you  sent 
me  on  my  career  and  blessed  me  as  another's  bridegroom,  and 
turned  back  with  all  your  glorious  powers  of  body  and  of  heart  to 
be,  like  Hagar,  the  bride  of  the  wolf,  and  your  habitation  in  the 
wilderness.     What  have  you  been  recompensed  in  ?  " 

"  Career,  my  master.     I  saw  a  work  to  do." 

"  Sho,  sho  !  I  know  what  that  has  been  :  to  take  the  place  of 
danger  on  the  Underground  Road  and  save  a  slave  or  two,  whose 
escape  to  freedom  only  aggravated  the  sorrows  of  the  rest,  and 


212  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

made  the  bloodhound  Federal  laws  invade  the  North.  A  hundred 
Quakers  have  done  as  much,  Ninon." 

"  Master,"  said  the  woman,  "  I  have  gained  knowledge.  I  have 
predicted  things  which  came  to  pass.  I  predict  that,  before  you 
leave  this  humble  farm,  the  brazen  door  of  bondage  will  resound  to 
the  sledge-hammers  of  our  daring  smiths  !  " 

As  she  spoke,  fervidly,  she  seemed  to  swoon,  and  her  long  hair 
fell  downward  to  the  ground. 

He  placed  his  arm  around  her,  and  she  pushed  it  away. 

"  No  more  of  that,  master !  I  am  in  the  very  labor  of  my  life- 
work  now,  and  my  soul  is  in  the  depths  of  travail !  Oh,  be  a  just 
man  to  your  son  !    He  loves  you." 

"  He  is  too  brave  to  need  my  justice,"  Abel  Quantrell  said. 
"  Like  me,  he  will  not  bow  the  knee  to  man,  and  be  ashamed  of 
JSfature — bountiful  and  wise  in  him.  Justice  is  for  the  common- 
place ;  freedom  and  independence  are  for  heroes." 

His  face,  being  animated  now,  had  lines  of  coarseness  in  it,  as  if 
he  was  of  the  satyr's  type,  and  mocked  conventionalities. 

"  Shall  I  be  just  to  you,  Ninon .''  "  continued  Abel  Quantrell, 
when  he  had  restored  his  hand  to  his  bosom,  and  was  restfully 
proud  again. 

"  I  have  been  just  to  myself,  master," 

"How?" 

"  By  my  spiritual  gift.     I  am  your  wife." 

"  Sho,  sho  !  " 

"  See,  sir !  The  dead  deliver  to  me  the  rights  I  would  not  ask 
for.     She  who  has  sought  to  lose  her  life,  has  saved  it." 

His  faded  eyes  fell  upon  the  wedding-ring,  which  she  had  dropped 
into  his  palm,  upon  her  hand. 

"  Magic  !  "  said  Abel  Quantrell ;  "  how  came  it  here .''  " 

"  Wafted  ! "  Hannah  Ritner  spoke  ;  "  the  day  of  my  agony, 
when  my  martyr-fires,  perhaps,  are  lighted  and  my  chain  is  forged, 
the  ring  I  had  refused  slides  down  the  rainbow  to  my  feet." 

"  Are  you  one  of  those  Spiritualist  fanatics,  Ninon  ?  Sho,  sho  ! 
There  is  no  divination  in  geometry.  Three  times  from  the  base  is 
the  cube.     It  was  my  son  you  got  that  ring  from." 

"  No,  master ;  but  from  the  child  he  gave  it  to  when  he  engaged 
himself." 

"  Sho  !  He  had  visited  no  lady  when  he  left  Baltimore  six  days 
ago.     I  have  found  a  wife  for  him,  and  that  brings  me  here." 


THE    YANKEE. 


213 


"  He  has  found  love  here,  master.  You  may  give  him  another 
wife,  but  not  the  one  he  loves." 

"  Who  is  it  }  " 

"  Little  Katy,  who  sits  in  yonder  house  of  log  and  stone ;  the 
Dunker  farmer's  child." 

"  Sho,  sho  !  No  need  of  marrying  there.  He  can  love  in  one 
place  and  marry  in  another — " 

"  And  have  remorse,  like  you,  master  }  " 

"  How  do  you  know  that }  " 

"  I  heard  you  bring  it  from  the  woodlands  of  your  sleep,  saying 
that  self-indulgence  never  could  be  expanded  into  a  sacrifice." 

The  old  man  raised  his  club-foot  and  looked  at  it  bitterly. 

"  There  is  a  gnawing  in  my  bosom,  Ninon,  but  it  is  the  decaying 
principle  of  life.  I  am  sixty-seven.  That  self  I  accuse  myself  of  is 
the  selfishness  of  career.  If  I  have  sacrificed  others,  here  and  there, 
it  was  to  keep  the  greater  compassion  in  view,  and  change  the  sys- 
tems by  which  wrong  and  tyranny  were  possible.  I  resigned  most 
passionate  love  to  plant  myself  in  the  domestic  circle  of  border-State 
slavery,  and  to  work  its  downfall  by  the  social  foothold  I  obtained. 
My  son  must  marry  to  strengthen  me  in  the  same  labor,  and  make 
Marj'land  a  free  State  before  I  die." 

"  You  will  marry  him  to  a  religious  woman  ?  " 

"  Yes.  to  a  Catholic.  The  strength  of  slavery  in  Maryland  lies 
in  the  old  Catholic  counties  and  families,  and  in  the  increasing  col- 
lege and  conventual  institutions  of  that  Church.  There  was  a  time 
when  Carroll,  of  Carrollton,  took  me  by  the  hand,  when  we  Anti- 
masons-  came  to  Baltimore  to  overthrow  the  power  of  President 
Jackson.  There  lie  latent  in  his  church  resentments  against  all 
forms  of  ruffianism,  of  which  human  bondage  is  the  chief.  I  have 
sent  my  son  to  Catholic  school  and  worship.  For  me  all  gates  to 
heaven  are  too  narrow ;  by  freedom  I  will  go  in,  or  be  the  specter 
of  Heaven's  own  injustice,  agitating  at  the  gate  ! " 

He  spoke  with  sardonic  quietness,  yet  without  quietness  of 
soul. 

"  Master,  is  there  not  the  Jesuit's  method  in  your  plan  ?  '  The 
quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained.'  It  passes  no  suffering  human 
creature,  to  do  some  greater  good,  beyond.  By  Jesus  came  compas- 
sion in  the  world,  and  by  politicians  and  by  pontiffs  came  religious 
craft.  The  New  World  was  given  to  tyrants,  and  its  native  millions 
thrown  into  slavery,  that  they  might  be  saved  from  greater  damna- 


214 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN 


tion.  I  predict,  with  truth  in  my  soul,  that  one  brave  man  this  day, 
without  scrip  or  raiment,  and  his  life  for  the  stone  in  his  sling,  will 
strike  every  false  system  down,  and  be  the  hero  of  the  world." 

"  You  wander,  Ninon  !  Sho,  sho  !  you  were  always  wild  of  mind. 
Had  there  been  such  a  man,  he  would  have  come  to  me." 

"You  were  a  politician,  master,  and  he  came  to  me.  Oh,  I  fear 
I  may  have  done  wrong,  that  good  may  come  of  it ! " 

Abel  Quantrell  took  her  head  upon  his  shoulder.  She  resisted  a 
little  moment,  and  w^as  still. 

"  How  much  you  have  suffered,  Ninon  !  " 

"  I  have  died,  master,  and  am  raised  from  the  grave.  When  you 
married,  I  prayed  for  your  wife,  but  all  was  death  to  me  for  days. 
I  came  to  this  world  again,  people  thought  a  little  crazy." 

"  Ahvays  a  little  above  this  world,  child." 

'•  That  I  might  not  be  a  burden  and  mockery  to  my  great  politi- 
cal relatives,  I  crossed  the  State  line  and  lived  in  a  little  hut.  The 
children  came  to  me  for  curiosity,  the  mature  to  have  me  tell  their 
fortunes  ;  my  cottage  light  was  the  polar  star  of  a  thousand  slaves." 

"  All  this  time,  Ninon,  I  was  mismated.  Disgrace  followed  me, 
also :  my  brother  moved  beside  me,  and  became  a  negro-trader ; 
my  son  became  a  corner-lounger  and  a  bully.  Sho,  sho  !  My  heart 
sought  you  out  in  the  dreams  of  sleep  and  in  the  nervous  wakeful- 
ness of  the  night.  Why  did  you  not  take  the  square  root  from  our 
troubles  and  send  for  me  }  " 

"You  were  married,  master.  A  great  thing  had  purified  my 
heart." 

"  I  know,  my  child.  How  noble  you  were,  there  !  Behold  my 
wretched  residue  of  marital  ambition  !  I  am  too  old  to  love  you 
now." 

"  Master,  it  was  from  you,  in  the  days  of  our  passion,  that  I  drew 
the  example  to  think  on  others'  wrongs.  The  old  Dutch  sects — 
Quakers  in  other  respects — felt  no  offense  at  human  slavery.  I  took 
up  the  work  when  you  relinquished  it.  My  labors  are  almost  ended. 
— What  man  is  that  yonder,  master  ?  " 

As  she  arose,  in  all  her  strength  and  stature,  Abell  Quantrell  saw 
that  she  was  trembling. 

"  Sho  !  Joan  d'Arc,"  he  said,  tenderly,  "  beneath  your  armor  I 
see  the  poor  child  still." 

A  black  man  came  forward  with  Nelly  and  with  Katy ;  he  was 
half  naked,  and  nearly  dead  with  fatigue. 


THE    YANKEE. 


215 


"  Speak,  poor  man  !  "  called  Hannah  Ritner.  "  You  were  with 
Isaac  Smith  across  the  river?  " 

"  Missy,  dey's  fout  all  day.  Mos'  all  is  tuck  an'  killed.  Two  of 
us  got  away — and  what  was  leff  in  Maryland.  Mosster  Quantrell 
sent  me." 

He  produced  gold  pieces. 

"  Good  Lord  ! "  cried  Nelly  Harbaugh ;  "  this  is  the  runaway 
nigger,  and  he  must  have  stole  the  whole  reward  for  himself." 

"  Missy,  Lloyd  tole  me  to  come  to  Bosler's  farm  and  give  dis 
money  to  Luther  to  buy  me  with  it.  He  wants  to  save  my  life  and 
own  me." 

"  Yes,  do  buy  the  pore  man  ! "  Katy  cried.  "  He's  known  nothing 
but  misery." 

"I'll  attend  to  the  matter,"  Abel  Quantrell  observed.  "Ninon, 
put  yourself  across  the  Pennsylvania  line  without  delay !  Has  this 
weakness  brought  on  a  civil  war  ?  " 

Hannah  Ritner  was  the  picture  of  one  dying,  yet  struggling  to 
live. 

"  Go  with  her,"  Abel  Quantrell  continued,  speaking  to  the  negro 
Ashby.  "  I  am  anxious  to  gratify  all  my  son's  wishes  at  this  mo- 
ment, foolish  as  they  may  be." 

"  Why  .>  "  asked  Katy  Bosler. 

"Because  I  have  picked  out  a  wife  for  him,  little  Dunker!  and 
would  persuade  him  to  my  will." 

He  called  for  his  carriage  and  servant.  Hannah  Ritner  and  Job 
Snowberger  drove  away  with  the  negro  Ashby. 

Suddenly  Nelly  Harbaugh  cried,  as  Abel  Quantrell  also  passed 
from  view : 

"  Kalyyfergeshi /  where  is  your  wedding-ring?  " 

Awakened  from  the  stupor  of  several  minutes,  Katy  looked  at 
her  hand  and  screamed. 

She  ran  to  the  house  and  rang  the  bell  loudly  for  the  field-hands 
to  come  home,  and  then  started  up  the  stairs. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Katy  ?  " 

"To  git  a-ready  for  Harper's  Ferry  and  to  see  Lloyd." 


2i6  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 
JOHN    brown's    fort. 

As  Lloyd  Quantrell  entered  the  armory-yard  with  a  signal  of 
truce,  his  quickened  apprehension  took  in  the  Washington  family- 
carriage  on  the  grass  riddled  with  bullets,  the  engine-house  doors 
splintered  as  if  by  Hghtning,  and  at  least  four  short  barrels  of  rifles 
pointing  at  himself  from  the  door-crevices  and  the  brick  loop-holes. 

Expecting  each  instant  to  meet  the  fate  of  Stevens  and  wallow 
on  the  ground,  a  hulk  of  broken  bones,  he  exerted  his  empty  hand 
with  an  earnestness  which  enabled  him  to  gain  the  door  un- 
shot. 

"  Captain  Brown,  they  are  killing  your  son  -  in  -  law,  William 
Thompson  !  He  cried  to  me  for  help.  None  but  you  can  save 
him  ! " 

At  the  moment  he  spoke  a  shower  of  balls  made  a  circle  around 
him,  and  the  rod,  on  which  had  been  his  hat,  was  twisted  out  of  his 
hand  by  a  bullet  which  benumbed  his  whole  arm,  and  from  the 
wood  and  brick  of  the  engine-house  chips  and  brick-dust  were 
struck.     The  door  opened,  and  unseen  hands  pulled  him  in. 

"  Prospectin',  heigh  }  "  a  merry  voice  said. 

"Your  brother,  Dauph  Thompson,  is  being  murdered  on  the 
bridge.     Listen ! " 

The  sounds  of  many  guns,  a  faint  women's  wail,  and  a  cheer 
without  a  note  of  joy  in  it,  followed  by  a  sort  of  silence  such  as  ani- 
mals keep  whose  food  has  suddenly  been  thrown  into  their  dens,  re- 
lated some  horrible  story. 

Dauph  Thompson  turned  pale,  and  still  his  voice  was  cheery : 

"  Willy  murdered  ?     They  wouldn't  do  that !  " 

He  threw  open  the  engine-house  door  sufficiently  to  crouch  in 
the  sill,  and  said  pleasantly,  yet  troubled  : 

"  Prospectin'." 

In  a  moment  something  appeared  protruding  on  sticks  and  poles 
from  the  corner  of  the  hotel  and  station,  where  the  town  mayor  had 
exposed  his  life. 

"  That's  something  to  draw  your  fire,  men  ;  don't  be  foolish  !  " 
John  Brown's  settled,  metallic  voice  spoke  from  the  top  of  a  fire- 
engine,  looking  through  an  arched  and  shivered  window. 


JOHN  BROWN'S  FORT.  21/ 

Dauph  Thompson  stood  up  in  the  doorway  and  turned  his  face 
inward ;  it  was  pale,  as  if  he  had  a  mortal  wound. 

"  Don't  mind  me  !  "  he  said,  in  mournful  pleasantry.  "  I'm  jess 
prospectin'." 

"  What  is  it,  Dauph  ?  Are  you  hurt .''  "  Ned  Coppock  cried, 
throwing  his  arm  around  his  comrade. 

"Ned — it's  Will's  clothes  they're  showing — full — of  his  blood  !  " 

"Murderers!"  muttered  Coppock.  "Don't  cry,  Dauph.  He 
give  his  all,  and  all  is  over  now  !  " 

"  O  Will !    Never  to  see  you  more,  my  brother  !  " 

"  Yes,  Dauph.     This  is  not  all  the  life  that  good  men  live." 

Wiping  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  and  shaking  Coppock's  hand, 
young  Thompson  turned  his  face  to  Captain  Brown,  and  spoke 
pleasantly  as  before : 

"  Prospectin',  father — jess  once  more." 

He  looked  at  his  gun,  closed  his  lips  and  opened  his  nostrils,  and 
a  slight  flash  of  spirit,  more  sportsman-Hke  than  serious,  came  from 
his  eyes. 

He  stood  erect  in  the  crevice  of  the  door,  and  raised  his  gun  to 
his  eye. 

It  went  off,  and  with  it  he  spun  around,  as  if  from  its  rebound, 
and  fell  upon  his  face  on  the  brick  floor. 

Coppock  turned  him  over,  and  called — 

"  Dauph  ! " 

"  Prospectin',"  replied  a  faint  voice,  and  his  bosom  filled  with  his 
heart's  blood. 

He  had  been  shot,  courting  death,  with  a  miner's  phrase  upon 
his  lips,  and  had  found  the  eternal  treasure  where  the  streets,  they 
say,  are  paved  with  gold. 

"  O  Isabel ! "  a  moaning  voice  came  from  some  muddy  and 
travel-stained  clothes  upon  the  floor     "  Oh,  water,  father  ! " 

"  Be  composed,  my  son,"  spoke  the  steady  voice  of  John  Brown. 
"  Your  wife's  brothers  have  both  died  like  men.  Die  the  man,  like 
your  brother  Oliver  !  " 

He  gave  the  order  to  close  the  doors  and  risk  no  further  lives, 
and  to  keep  the  prisoners  back. 

Ouantrell  would  have  been  killed,  to  expose  himself  at  the  door, 
so  he  retired  to  the  side  of  Watson  Brown  and  leaned  Watson's 
head  upon  the  cold  form  of  the  dead  Oliver. 

"  Drink  of  this  flask,  my  lad." 


2i8  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

This  time  the  suffering  man  did  not  resist  the  life-infusing 
draught. 

"  Give  some  to  Oily,"  muttered  Watson  Brown.  "  He  is  so 
cold." 

Quantrell  counted  nine  prisoners  sitting  around  the  edges  of  this 
nearly  square  room — which,  as  has  been  said,  was  some  twenty- 
four  feet  upon  a  side ;  the  watch-house,  under  the  same  roof,  was 
now  deserted  by  friend  and  foe. 

The  prisoners  had  nothing  to  do,  but  seek  to  get  a  little  rest  by 
sitting  upon  a  narrow  sill  or  coigne,  like  an  abortive  bench,  which  ran 
around  the  chamber  a  little  above  the  damp  floor.  Some  of  them 
John  Brown  had  permitted  to  shield  themselves  with  the  leather 
hose  or  any  other  fireman's  traps  which  would  divert  a  bullet.  All 
the  prisoners  were  tractable  and  worried  ;  some  nodded  for  a  little 
while ;  others  ventured  a  word  occasionally  with  the  chief  raider  or 
some  of  his  men ;  and  one  or  two  had  a  thin,  genial  phrase  to  say, 
parrot-fashion,  rather  as  formulas  to  keep  up  luck,  than  to  court 
any  popularity. 

"  Ole  Ball "  was  seen  to  be  a  heavy,  bacon-fed,  middle-aged 
man,  probably  of  the  large  Virginia  connection  of  George  Washing- 
ton's mother,  and  he  paid  great  deference  to  "  Cappen  Smith,"  for, 
notwithstanding  his  own  admissions,  and  the  assurances  of  his  men, 
the  greatest  bewilderment  still  existed  as  to  the  true  name,  location, 
or  purpose  of  the  bandit  chief,  and,  with  dogmatic  loyalty  to  hear- 
say, the  Virginians  believed  John  Brown  to  be  still  Mr.  Isaac  Smith, 
carrying  on  some  little  game. 

"  Josephus ! "  Ball  would  say,  when  a  bullet  struck  one  of  the 
engines  and  disported  itself  among  the  wooden  girders  above, 
"  Cappen  Smith,  that  was  close,  now !  " 

A  Mar}'land  man,  with  a  little  smiling  shiver,  would  on  such 
occasions  add  in  a  small,  cowed  voice : 

"  Zip  !     Be  on  your  qui  vivy  !  " 

Mr.  Washington  had  so  far  recovered  from  his  melancholy  as  to 
make  a  suggestion  at  long  intervals,  directed  ostensibly  at  Captain 
Smith's  safety  or  comfort,  but  with  a  generous  providence,  also, 
which  embraced  himself. 

"  Ah,  captain,  sah  !  "  he  said,  soon  after  Lloyd's  entrance,  "  don't 
your  son  want  a  doctaw  ?  " 

"My  son  knows  his  duty,  sir,  and  makes  no  complaint,"  John 
Brown  remarked,  inspecting  his  revolvers. 


JOHN  BROWN'S  FORT.  219 

"  But,  ah,  captain,  sah  !  He  did  ask  faw  wataw,  and  captain — 
ah  !  we  all  want  wataw  greatly,  captain." 

"  Your  fellow-citizens,  gentlemen,  have  killed  my  men  sent  on 
errands  of  our  mutual  benefit,  and  I  will  take  no  more  risks  till  my 
re-enforcements  come. — Here,  men,  back  that  fire-engine  against  the 
door,  and  stretch  these  ropes  across  the  jambs !  Put  the  engine- 
tongue  so  as  to  hold  the  door  against  a  battering,  and  run  the  other 
cart  forward  !  Wake  up  those  recruits  underneath  the  engine  and 
let  them  earn  their  living !  " 

The  recruits  consisted  of  a  few  slaves  gathered  from  neighbor- 
ing "  estates,"  as  the  farms  were  called  ;  and  these  negroes,  debarred 
from  any  other  excitements  all  their  lives  than  Whitsuntide  or  "  a 
licking,"  were  now  expected  to  take  an  intelligent,  indeed,  heroic 
view  of  their  first  opportunity,  and  the  white  prisoners  faintly  smiled 
at  this  proof  of  a  natural  incapacity  for  self-government. 

"Cappen  Brown,"  said  the  master-machinist  of  the  armory, 
heretofore  described  as  "  Ole  Ball,"  "  don't  you  think  it's  an  ongrate- 
ful  time  for  these  men  and  brethren  to  be  a-snoozin'  and  leave  you 
to  earn  their  salvation  }    Josephus  !  cap." 

A  ball  went  whizzing  among  the  men  and  peeled  the  rafters 
above. 

"Zip  !"  said  the  Maryland  man,  in  an  awed  voice  ;  "  be  on  the 
qui  vivy  now !" 

"  Ah — sah  !     Torturing — sah  !  "  from  Colonel  Washington. 

"The  disciples,"  replied  the  gnarled  old  woodsman,  in  his 
shrill  key,  "  went  to  sleep  the  night  on  Gethsemane,  when  their 
Master  asked  them  to  watch  with  him  one  little  hour.  They  were 
continually  sleeping,  sir,  until  he  requested  them  not  to  get  up  any 
more,  for,  said  he,  '  the  hour  is  at  hand,  and  the  Son  of  man  is  be- 
trayed into  the  hands  of  sinners.'  " 

A  piece  of  glass,  sheared  off  neatly  by  a  bullet,  went  sailing 
through  the  room.  The  four  men  able  to  stand  by  their  arms  re- 
turned the  courtesy,  and  the  place  stank  of  sulphur,  and  every  palate 
was  coppery  and  hot. 

"Zip !  Be  on  the  qui  vivy,"  the  Maryland  man  was  heard  to 
say,  and  shudder  in  the  smoke. 

"  Josephus  !  Cappen  Brown,  how  you  kin  remember  Scripter  !  " 

"  Nothing  remarkable  about  that,  sir,  for  I  studied  for  the  Chris- 
tian ministry  before  I  was  of  age,  till  an  inflammation  of  the  eyes, 
sir,  sent  me  back  to  my  tan-yard." 


220  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

A  nail  came  whistling  through  one  of  the  sky-windows  and 
played  a  little  tune  as  it  tingled  on  the  levers  of  one  of  the  engines. 
The  negroes,  working  there,  fell  on  the  brick  floor  again.  The 
voice  of  John  Brown  was  heard  to  say  : 

"  No  man  is  fit  to  fight  for  human  nature  who  despairs  of  it. 
This  world  slept  in  trespasses  and  sins  when  the  unwelcome  Re- 
deemer came.  And  why  should  these  ignorant  slaves,  whose  fore- 
fathers came  to  Virginia  in  bondage  the  same  year  my  ancestor 
came  to  Massachusetts  in  the  Mayflower,  be  awake,  when  we 
alone,  of  all  the  Mayflower's  children,  are  awake  to  their  mjustice  ? 
That  is  why  I  am  here,  prisoners — to  awake  this  land  !  I  expected 
these  slaves  to  awake  last.  If  a  thousand  years  to  the  Lord  are 
but  as  a  day,  may  not  these  three  hundred  years  of  bondage  be  but 
as  a  night  of  sleep  to  these?  " 

"Bang!"  "Bang!"  "Bang!"  "Bang!" 

The  four  guns  in  the  hands  of  Brown's  surviving  fighters  went 
off  sequentially,  two  at  the  port-holes,  two  at  the  doors. 

"  Josephus ! "  spoke  Mr.  Ball,  "  the  place  smells  hke  a  bad  ror 

egg ! " 

Answering  shots  brought  down  a  little  shower  of  flattened  lead 
upon  everybody. 

"  Zip  !  "  said  the  Marylander's  quaver  of  a  voice.  "  No  use  of 
bein'  on  the  ^ui  vivy  yer  !  " 

"  Water !  Father !  O  my  God  !  "  a  breath  sighed  up  from 
Watson  Brown. 

"Ah — captain.  Your  son !  He  is  thirsty,"  Colonel  Washing- 
ton appealed. 

"My  son  is  a  brave  man,"  replied  John  Brown,  firmly.  "'I 
thirst,'  gentlemen,  was  the  cry  that  let  the  Christian  era  in.  Your 
fellow-citizens,  to  whom  we  meant  no  wrong,  but  justice,  give  these 
dying  soldiers  of  mine  the  hyssop  and  the  sponge  of  vinegar  to  cool 
their  thirst." 

"  Don't  weaken  for  me,  father  ! "  gasped  the  ashen  face  of  Wat- 
son Brown. 

"  O  man  ! "  Lloyd  Ouantrell  cried,  "  are  you.  who  rebuked  me 
for  killing  a  dove,  so  merciless  as  to  hear  your  son  howl  like  this  .^ 
And  quote  your  Bible,  too  !  " 

The  usual  momentary  salute  came  tearing  through  the  little 
fort. 

Captain  Brown   peered  out  of  the  door,  and  the  balls  struck 


JOHN  BROWN'S  FORT.  221 

around  his  stiff  hairs  and  stooping  shoulders.  He  carried  no  gun, 
and  returned  like  one  who  had  merely  been  examining  the  weather- 
indications. 

"  Men,"  said  he,  "  be  careful  now  of  your  ammunition.  My  re- 
enforcements  may  be  somewhat  late.  What  you  are  to  guard 
against  is  a  sudden  rush  upon  you,  or  the  establishing  of  a  rifle-pit, 
or  a  blind,  within  easy  aiming  distance  of  this  building.  That  you 
must  not  permit." 

"  Captain,"  said  one  of  his  men  named  Stewart  Taylor,  a  cool, 
freckled  lad,  "  how  many  re-enforcements  do  you  expect }  " 

"  It  is  only  a  question  of  time,  Taylor,"  Brown  answered. 
"  There  may  be  thousands  of  them." 

"  We've  got  the  promise  of  them,"  a  taller  man  exclaimed ; 
"and  we're  four  good  men  yet,  besides  our  commander." 

"  Yes,  Anderson,"  the  leader  remarked,  stroking  his  long  beard; 
"  we  are  in  stout  walls,  well  armed,  and  nothing  but  cannon  can 
batter  down  our  fort,  and  these  prisoners  forbid  their  using  any 
cannon." 

He  looked  around  upon  the  nine  or  ten  discomfited  men,  hang- 
ing or  crouching  there,  like  hams  in  a  smoke-house  when  the  bear 
family  pay  it  a  visit ;  and  the  free  negro.  Green,  the  surviving  one 
of  the  pair  which  had  menaced  Quantrell,  remarked  : 

"  Their  lives,  I  guess,  ain't  worth  no  more  than  our'n  !  " 

"  No,  Green,"  John  Brown  replied,  "  prisoners  must  take  their 
chances ;  this  is  a  war." 

Ed  Coppock  gave  a  reassuring  look  at  the  prisoners  and  w\'alked 
out  upon  the  lawn,  where  his  rifle  was  soon  heard  to  crack.  He  re- 
turned, laughing,  pursued  by  musketry  which  made  the  doors  sound 
like  rats  gnawing  through  them. 

"  I  gave  that  Gault  House  a  shot,"  he  said,  "  in  remembrance 
of  poor  Stevens." 

"  Isabel,  are  you  here,  dearest  ?  I  can't  see  you  !  " — from  the 
pale  lips  of  Watson  Brown. 

"  Drink,  lad,"  said  Quantrell. 

"  Oh,  it  comes  out  of  my  wounds  !  "  the  sufferer  cried,  putting  his 
hand  upon  his  stomach.     "  I  can't  hold  anything." 

"  You  have  asked  me  a  question,  Mr.  Quantrell,"  the  indurated 
father  observed,  returning  back  along  the  course  of  the  conversa- 
tion— "  why  I  could  reprove  the  killing  of  a  dove,  and  permit  the 
killing  of  a  man,  even  of  my  son  ?  " 


222  KATY   OF   CATOCTIN. 

He  came  over  and  felt  of  Watson's  bleeding  abdomen,  and 
covered  Oliver's  dead  face  with  a  blanket,  and,  regarding  both  with 
an  interest  which,  in  its  very  practicality,  was  pathetic,  he  con- 
tinued : 

"  Blood  is  so  precious  that  no  man  should  take  it  for  amuse- 
ment ;  and  it  is  the  most  wholesome  sacrifice  to  the  Lord.  On 
Abel's  bleeding  altar  came  the  approving  fire  from  heaven,  while 
Cain,  whose  sacrifice  of  sticks  God  did  not  respect,  fell  on  his 
brother  and  slew  him.  The  sole  question  of  bloodshed  is :  'In 
what  spirit  do  you  shed  it  ?  what  is  the  motive  of  your  sacrifice  ?  '  " 

"  Zip,  cap'n  !     Be  on  the  qui  vivy  !  "  from  the  Maiyland  man. 

"  Oh,  kill  me  !     O  my  Bell !  "  from  the  tortured  Watson. 

"  Your  cause  is  just,  my  son.  Bear  it  like  a  man,"  John  Brown 
proceeded.  "  Now,  sir  "  (to  Quantrell),  "  it  is  permitted  to  man  to  shed 
the  blood  of  animals  for  his  necessities.  '  Have  dominion  over  them,' 
said  the  Lord  in  the  beginning.  Yet  every  sparrow  is  counted,  every 
lamb  is  measured  out,  and,  in  the  dove's  domestic  love,  is  heaven 
made  emblematic  :  the  Holy  Spirit's  peace.  As  I  have  rebuked  you 
for  killing  the  inoffensive  dove,  I  call  this  nation  to  account  for  its 
cruelty  to  our  fellow-creatures.  In  either  case,  sir,  the  interference 
may  have  been  gratuitous ;  but  blood  of  mine,  and  of  the  humble 
doves  of  peace,  in  Kansas,  was  shed  before  I  began." 

"Josephus!  Cappen  Brown,  you  don't  shoot  us  down  yer,  be- 
cause out  yonder  in  Kinsas  there  was  a  fight,  do  you  .''  " 

"  Zip  !    Be  on  your  guz  vivy  !  " 

Colonel  Washington's  hired  black  servant  had  a  considerable 
wool-clip  taken  out  of  his  head  at  this  point. 

"  I  want  water,  too,"  he  exclaimed,  in  his  terror.  "  I'm  chokin' 
fo'  it !  " 

"  That  fellow — ah  ! "  Colonel  Washington  exclaimed,  in  a  low 
voice,  to  Quantrell,  "  came  to  this  resort  too  willingly  when  Cook 
and  Stevens  ordered  him  ;  it  would  be — ah  ! — retribution,  sah — if  he 
did  lose  his  life,  sah." 

"Mus'  we  die  heah  of  thirst,  an'  de  rivers  full  of  water.?"  ex- 
claimed the  negro  man,  lying  beside  his  abandoned  spear, 

"  There  is  a  river,"  sighed  Watson  Brown,  "  whose  streams  shall 
make  glad  the  city  of  God.  Oh,  let  me  swim  there — in  the  Au  Sa- 
ble ! — Bell,  Bell,  bury  me  by  the  water,  dear ;  I  want  to  lap  it,  dar- 
ling." 

He  opened  his  eyes,  and  recognizing  Quantrell,  added,  manfully : 


JOHN  BROWN'S  FORT.  223 

"  Yes,  bury  me  by  my  comrades,  by  the  river-side,  away  from  the 
cavalry." 

"  By  the  Au  Sable,  did  you  say,  Watson  ?     Where  is  that  ?  " 

"  It's  too  far,"  spoke  the  boy,  deathly  sweat  upon  his  forehead  ; 
"  by  the  Kaw ;  that  will  do.  Or  by  the  Shenandoah.  I  fought  by 
both  streams — where  father  said  it  was  right." 

The  evening  came  down  upon  this  little  scene — of  the  mysteri- 
ous invader  and  his  four  remaining  soldiers,  standing  by  their  guns 
against  the  assembling  country.  Toward  night  the  firing  became 
merely  drunken  about  the  streets,  and  Brown  let  a  prisoner  or  two 
go  out  from  his  little  ark,  but  neither  dove  nor  raven  returned  again  ; 
and  the  whistling  of  trains,  opposite  and  above  the  town,  indicated 
the  coming  of  more  and  more  troops  ;  but  still  John  Brown  believed, 
from  time  to  time,  that  they  were  his  "re-enforcements." 

He  evidently  believed  this,  because  he  would  confer  with  his  men 
— Anderson  and  Coppock  being  the  more  intelligent  of  these— and 
he  would,  with  the  w^oodman-scout's  carefulness  of  ear,  compare 
the  sounds  of  rifles  in  the  distance,  and  say,  "  Surely  they  are  my  re- 
enforcements."  His  men  had  such  entire  trust  in  him  that  they  of- 
fered no  suggestions  nor  criticisms,  and  did  the  whole  of  the  fighting 
self-directed.  His  only  order,  from  time  to  time,  was,  "  Don't  lose 
your  interest,  men  !  Don't  be  surprised  !  My  re-enforcements  are 
not  far  off."  A  rifle  was  seldom  in  his  hand  ;  he  sometimes  drew 
the  sword  of  King  Frederick ;  but  the  negro  Green,  alone  of  his  men, 
was  suspicious  of  the  white  prisoners.  Quantrell  counted  these  and 
sounded  some  of  them  upon  the  propriety  of  a  coup  de  main— to 
grapple  with  this  old  man's  three  whites  and  one  negro,  and  throw 
open  the  doors  and  call  for  assistance  :  it  was  no  longer  practicable, 
for  the  prisoners,  while  not  less  apprehensive  than  in  the  morning, 
had  become  cowed  in  all  their  being,  as  from  the  short-learned  habit 
of  obedience. 

"  Why,  friend,"  whispered  Quantrell  to  one  of  these,  "  has  one 
day  made  white  men  slaves  }  W^hat  would  a  hundred  years  not  do, 
then  }  " 

"  Don't  you  feel  cowed,  too.?  "  asked  his  fellow-prisoner. 

"  I  must  admit  that  I  do,  every  time  I  re-enter  this  place  and  fall 
under  that  old  man's  influence.  But  why  are  not  his  little  band,  en- 
veloped by  a  worid  of  our  people,  also  made  timid  }  " 

"  Crazy,  I  reckon  !  " 

"  Fanatics,  yes,"  said  Lloyd—"  no  doubt  they  are ;  but  if  they 


224 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


represent  many  abolitionists  like  them,  what  will  be  the  fate  of 
slavery?  This  old  fellow  has  the  self-deception  of  Mohammed  ;  he 
is  the  prophet  of  God  to  all  these  boys :  they  pass,  fighting,  to  his 
paradise." 

"  I  can't  be  kept  much  longer  !  "  from  the  dying  Watson  Brown  ; 
"  I  shall  see  Fred  and  Oily,  over  there,  by  the  river. — Bell,  let  me  kiss 
my  little  boy  and  go  !  " 

"  See  there  !  "  Quantrell  said,  "  ke  is  worse  than  a  fatalist.  Who 
paid  him  to  come  here  ?  He  would  get  none  of  our  land  and  own 
none  of  our  slaves,  if  he  should  prevail.  Fanaticism  in  its  purest, 
most  ignorant  and  simple  form,  is  behind  and  in  these  men.  I  never 
would  have  believed  abolitionism  could  amount  to  this." 

"  Dreadful !  "  moaned  the  man  ;  "  I've  leaned  agin  this  yer  brick 
wall  till  I'm  damp  as  a  goose,  and  my  head's  as  sore  with  thinkin' 
as  t'other  end  is  of  tryin'  to  soften  this  ar  brick.  I  didn't  never  think 
I  could  think  so  much  as  I  have  this  yer  one  day." 

"  How  much  thinking,"  said  Lloyd,  "  has  old  Smith  given  to  this 
thing  ?     He  began  it  when  he  was  a  young  man." 

"  Oh,  he's  a  smart  old  scoundrel.  But  if  the  Lord  will  let  me 
out  of  yer,  I'll  promise  him  to  think  about  nothing  for  the  rest  of 
my  days !  " 

And  so  darkness  fell  upon  the  dead,  upon  them  in  bonds,  and 
upon  the  living  fanatics.  Silence  followed  the  darkness,  except 
when  Watson  Brown  cried  out  in  pain  and  delirium. 

At  length  there  came  to  the  door,  after  some  parley,  an  officer  of 
a  company  from  Maryland,  a  plain-speaking,  German-derived  man, 
whom  Brown  had  met  in  his  rambles,  perhaps,  and  he  said  : 

"  Cap'n  Smith,  I  don't  bear  no  malice  to  ye.  Where  in  the  world 
did  ye  come  from?  Who  air  ye?  What  did  ye  come  hyar  for? 
Now,  Smith,  surrender,  and  make  no  further  trouble.  Ye're  agin 
the  XdiW—you  must  know  that." 

"  If  you  knew  who  I  was — what  I  have  gone  through  against 
this  thing  of  slavery — you  could  understand  Avhat  brought  me  here, 
sir,"  the  leader  replied.  "  I  have  tried  to  send  my  proposition  sev- 
eral times  to  them  in  command  against  me.    Who  is  in  command  ?  " 

"  Why,  Governor  Wise,  of  Virginia  ;  he's  near  by,  they  say,  and 
the  United  States  marines  from  Washington  ;  they'll  be  yer  soon. 
Jist  at  present  thar  ain't  no  commander,  ezackly." 

"Then,  sir,  I  shall  not  surrender  to  a  mob,  to  have  my  few  men 
here  massacred — before  my  re-enforcements  come." 


JOHN  BROWN'S  FORT.  22$ 

Later  on,  the  same  kindly  disposed  militia  captain  sent  a  doctor 
in,  to  see  the  suffering  son  of  the  bandit.  He  said  he  could  not  de- 
termine anything  without  a  light.  Brown  would  not  permit  a  light ; 
it  would  expose  his  position  and  the  number  of  his  command,  and 
he  might  be  taken  unaware  before  his  "  re-enforcements  "  could  ar- 
rive. It  was  agreed,  however,  to  prevent,  if  possible,  firing  upon 
the  engine-house  for  the  night,  lest  the  hostages  might  be  injured. 
The  doctor  promised  to  send  in  some  anodyne  for  Watson,  but  it 
never  came. 

A  fear  now  seized  the  prisoners  that,  in  the  storming  of  the  en- 
gine-house, they  would  have  the  double  danger  of  being  killed  by 
their  friends  or  massacred  by  their  captors  ;  and,  this  being  mooted 
to  Brown,  he  said  : 

"  In  war,  prisoners  are  subject  to  all  the  dangers  of  the  belliger- 
ents. I  will  send  you  to  the  rear  as  far  as  I  can.  Keep  against  the 
back  wall  there." 

"  Oh,  can't  I  git  a  brick  that  ain't  so  much  kiln-dried,"  from  the 
man  of  sore  body  and  soul — "  a  brick  that's  a  leetle  damp — outen 
the  mold,  like,  and  that  would  ^/■z/^  just  a  leetle  ?  " 

"  Have  to  be  on  the  qui  vivy  to  find  that,"  another  sore  voice 
from  the  darkness. 

"  Josephus  !  "  another  voice,  like  a  snore,  "  if  the  Government 
work  is  like  this  night's,  I  shall  resign  and  settle  as  fur  off  as  Kin- 
sas." 

"  This  night,"  expressed  the  voice  of  weary  agony,  "  O  darling, 
kiss  me  and  say,  '  Husband,  go  ! '  I  am  so  burning !  Water,  Lord 
Jesus,  water ! " 

"  Patience,  Watson  !  "  the  old  man's  voice.  "  Your  father  does 
not  intend  to  sleep. — Keep  ready,  men !  The  enemy  is  treacherous 
and  cruel." 

All  the  night  long  they  heard  this  old  man,  alone  in  his  responsi- 
bilities, keeping  up  the  weary  vigilance  of  his  men,  and  sure  of  "  re- 
cnforcements." 

Quantrell,  busy  with  all  chords  of  sensibility,  from  religion  and 
the  creeping  dread  of  death  to  love  and  retaliation,  asked  himself, 
at  last,  the  meaning  of  Hannah  Ritner's  prophecy  : 

"  When  thou  killest  everything." 

He  had  killed  nobody  as  yet,  nor  was  like  to  do  so. 

He  tried  to  nod,  but  his  mind  kept  recurring  to  things  of  life — • 
his  father's  half-withheld  affection.  Light  Pittson's  warm  attractions 


226  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

and  romantic  admiration  for  himself,  and  Katy  Hosier's  nestling  con- 
fidence and  love. 

The  cool  yet  thirsty  night  passed  away,  and  cloudy  dawn  came 
in  at  the  hemispherical  window-tops. 

No  food,  no  certainty,  no  solution. 

Watson  Brown  had  been  rolling  and  vomiting  and  talking  of  his 
wife  and  baby  all  the  night.  His  father  was  more  of  a  satyr  than 
ever,  with  spiky  hair  and  matted  beard,  and  powder-stains  upon  his 
long  muzzle  of  a  nose.  No  other  apprehension  than  anxiety  about 
his  "  re-enforcements  "  was  in  his  cold,  gray  eyes,  no  tremor  in  those 
lean,  muscle-jawed  cheeks — nothing  less  than  primeval,  aboriginal, 
provincial,  warlike  purpose,  from  Hebrew  to  Scotch  Highlander,  was 
in  his  square  mouth  and  stone-cut  eyebrows. 

Taking  his  rifle,  he  said  to  his  men :  "  We  will  exact  terms  and 
be  allowed  to  cross  the  river  with  our  prisoners,  or  we  will  join  our 
companions  in  the  heaven  of  the  merciful  and  the  brave !  Let  no 
man  be  a  craven  now.  You  have  been  faithful  soldiers.  Sometimes 
re-enforcements  fail,  but  ours  must  come.  They  are  promised  where 
it  says :  '  Strait  is  the  gate  and  narrow  is  the  way  which  leadeth 
unto  life,'  and  '  he  that  findeth  his  life  shall  lose  it ;  and  he  that 
loseth  his  life  for  the  truth's  sake  shall  find  it.'  " 

Sounds  of  all  kinds  broke  the  early  morning  air — the  crowing 
cocks,  the  soaring  crows,  the  railroad's  whistle,  halloos,  cries,  and 
huzzas ;  and,  finally,  there  came  the  sound  of  men  marching  past 
with  solid,  regular  tread,  upon  the  grass  and  graveled  walks  of  the 
armory-yard. 

The  raiders  were  all  looking  through  port-holes  and  doors  ajar, 
and  Stewart  Taylor  spoke  : 

"  I  never  saw  soldiers  like  them.     What  are  they  ?  " 

"  United  States  marines,"  said  John  Brown. 

"We're  not  fighting  against  the  United  States,"  exclaimed  the 
taller  man,  Anderson,  "  but  against  slavery." 

"  The  United  States,"  said  John  Brown,  "  protects  slavery,  and 
is  protecting  it  now,  with  the  marines  we  pay  our  taxes  to  sup- 
port." 

Directly  afterward,  while  the  earliest  sun  stood  in  the  gateway 
down  which  the  blended  rivers  rushed  to  extinguish  it,  a  rap  came 
on  the  engine-house  door,  and  a  voice,  official,  not  loud,  but  with 
reserve  in  its  tone,  spoke  : 

"  I  want  to  see  the  commander  here ! " 


JOHN  BROWN'S  FORT.  22/ 

"  I  am  that  man,"  John  Brown  spoke,  promptly,  coming  forward 
with  the  sword  in  his  hand  and  the  rifle  leaning  beside  him. 

"  I  want  you  to  surrender  to  the  United  States  authority,  of  which 
I  am  an  officer." 

"  What  terms  am  I  offered  ?  " 

"  You  will  be  protected  from  the  populace,  and  handed  over  to 
the  civil  authorities  of  Virginia  for  trial." 

"  They  would  hang  me  and  my  men." 

"  With  that  I  have  nothing  to  do.     Do  you  surrender  ?  " 

"  I  demand  permission  to  cross  the  river  on  the  bridge,  and  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  bridge  I  will  let  my  prisoners  go,  and  we 
shall  then  have  to  fight  for  our  lives.  I  consider  this  fair,  lieuten- 
ant." 

"  It  is  inadmissible.     You  must  surrender." 

"  I  will  not  surrender.  I  will  die  here,  resisting  the  United 
States ! " 

"  Take  the  consequences,  then." 

"We  are  ready." 

"Are  you  John  Brown,  who  fought  at  Black  Jack  in  Kansas?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  was  there.     Were  you  there,  too .''  " 

"  I  am  Lieutenant  James  E.  B.  Stuart,  of  the  First  Regular  Cav- 
alry, which  prevented  you  renewing  the  skirmish." 

"  Why,  I  know  you,  sir.  And  now  you  know,  lieutenant,  how  I 
came  to  be  here." 

"  You  won't  surrender.  Brown  ?  " 

"  Not  on  your  conditions." 

"  Very  well,  sir  " — in  a  tone  of  indifference. 

"  Stand  to  your  arms,  men  !  "  the  metallic  voice  of  John  Brown 
exclaimed.  "  Distribute  yourselves  to  the  best  advantage.  We 
shall  not  yield  to  such  terms." 

"  Captain  Brown,"  interposed  Taylor,  respectfully,  "  I  did  not 
come  here  to  fight  the  United  States. " 

"  Nor  I,"  said  the  other  man,  Anderson. 

"  We  have  fought  well.  Captain  Brown,  but  we  can't  fight  our 
country,"  Taylor  contiriued.  "  Our  Canadian  constitution  reads, 
'  Look  to  no  dissolution  of  the  Union,  but  simply  to  amendment 
and  repeal.'  " 

"Yes,  Captain  Brown,"  added  Anderson,  "and  further  it  says, 
'  Our  flag  shall  be  the  same  our  fathers  fought  under  in  the  Revolu- 
tion.'    I  was  the  first  man,  captain,  to  come  to  Maryland  with  you ; 


228  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

I  helped  you  find  the  Kennedy  farm  for  our  headquarters.  I  have 
made  war  upon  Virginia,  but  not  upon  the  United  States." 

"  Do  as  you  please,  men.  I  shall  fight.  In  Kansas  my  son  sub- 
mitted to  the  regulars,  and  was  marched  in  chains  under  the  burn- 
ing sun,  fettered  to  a  dragoon's  horse,  and  he  lost  his  mind." 

The  two  men,  Anderson  and  Taylor,  unbuckled  their  belts  of 
arms  and  threw  them  aside,  set  their  rifles  in  a  corner,  and  retired 
without  fear  or  haste  to  a  space  within  that  corner,  in  line  with  the 
doors. 

The  dying  son  of  John  Brown  sought  to  raise  himself  and  take 
a  gun ;  but  his  eyes  glazed,  and  he  could  not  see.  Ned  Coppock 
went  to  his  relief,  and  put  Watson's  head  upon  his  lap. 

The  negro  man  Green,  troubled  but  not  dismayed,  exclaimed : 

"  What  will  become  of  me  .''  Colored  men  ain't  got  no  country 
an'  no  flag." 

"Stand  by  your  gun.  Shields,"  young  Coppock  replied.  "I 
won't  see  you  imposed  on. — Captain  Brown,  we're  three  left." 

He  resigned  Watson  Brown's  care  to  a  colored  man,  and  came 
forward  with  his  rifle. 

"  We  are  three,"  said  John  Brown,  firmly  ;  "  but  we  shall  have 
re-enforcements." 

As  he  spoke,  the  old  man  vaulted  into  the  upper  works  of  the 
engine,  crouched  there,  and  bent  his  eye  to  his  rifle. 

Green  knelt  at  one  side  of  the  engine,  and  Coppock  at  the  other 
side,  each  sheltered  by  a  wheel. 

The  two  dead  men  were  used  by  some  of  the  prisoners  as  de- 
fenses, among  other  articles. 

In  the  intensity  of  that  moment,  John  Brown  turned  to  his  pris- 
oners and  remarked,  calmly : 

"  Your  safety,  gentlemen,  is  in  not  changing  your  positions  dur- 
ing the  assault." 

Probably  every  prisoner  there  muttered  or  thought  of  some  act 
of  his  own,  or  said  some  reverent  word. 

Lloyd  Ouantrell  thought  of  the  negro  man  he  had  saved,  and  of 
the  Dunker  sacrament  he  had  taken. 

Regularly  moving  men  were  heard  outside  ;  their  side-arms  were 
heard  to  rattle  to  the  decision  of  their  tread,  and  the  words — 

"  First  file,  forw^ard  ! — second  file,  forward  !  " 

These  came  close  to  the  doors ;  their  very  breathing  could  be 
heard.     The  ragged  port-hole  revealed  them  to  a  few  within.     So 


JOHN  BROWN'S  FORT.  229 

could  the  prisoners  be  heard  to  breathe,  and  the  shivering  voice 
muttered  like  a  spell  to  its  own  fears  : 

"  Be  on  the  gut  vivy  !  " 

"  Number  one  and  two  !  "  from  outside. 

In  an  instant  fierce  blows  from  great  hammers  were  delivered 
upon  the  door,  and  the  weight  of  those  hammers  expelled  the 
breaths  of  the  men  who  swung  them  through  the  air. 

The  door  trembled  with  the  weight  of  those  blows,  but  was 
large  enough  to  distribute  their  power,  and  ropes  stretched  within 
made  the  door  recoil.  Only  some  ragged  parts  of  the  door  fell  with 
the  shock  of  the  sledges. 

Quantrell  saw  Brown  looking  down  his  rifle-breech,  keen  as  a 
squirrel  looking  along  a  bough. 

"  The  first  eight  from  each  file — forward  ! "  spoke  the  same  voice 
of  high  nervous  energy,  in  tones  low  pitched. 

In  a  moment  a  tremendous  sound  came  from  the  door  as  if  a 
cannon-ball  had  struck  it.     The  very  building  seemed  to  quiver. 

"Are  you  ready,  men?"  from  the  bushy,  squirrel-eyed  bandit 
leader. 

"  Ready,  captain  ! "  from  two  cool  voices,  of  one  black  man  and 
one  white. 

"  Lord-a-mercy  ! "  and  groans  from  the  fugitive  negroes  of  the 
neighborhood  who  were  back  among  the  prisoners. 

"  Back  ! "  from  the  open  air.  "  Forward,  now — smart,  and  all 
together ! " 

The  door  seemed  to  split  and  to  lose  cohesion  in  all  its  bolts,  yet 
hung  by  the  upper  hinge ;  and  below,  where  it  was  unhinged,  a 
bright  flash  of  daylight  came  in,  and  the  legs  of  men  in  blue  were 
seen. 

"  In  there,  number  one  !  Next  man — file  second  !  In  with  you  ! 
Use  the  bayonet !  " 

As  the  first  marine  came  stooping  through  the  fissure  of  the 
door,  the  colored  man  Green  discharged  his  rifle ;  the  man  fell  with 
a  cr>',  and  was  dragged  back  from  outside. 

"  In  with  you,  number  two  !  " 

As  the  second  marine  came  in,  Coppock's  gnn  went  off;  the 
man  stumbled,  but  fell  forward.  Smoke,  ascending  from  these  rifles, 
filled  the  engine-house  and  slowly  soared  upward,  and  John  Brown, 
lying  along  the  top  of  the  engine,  was  concealed  in  the  smoke. 

Lloyd  Quantrell  saw  a  small  man  in  officer's  dress  creep  in  the 


230 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


broken  space  at  the  bottom  of  the  door,  and  peer  around  like  a  rat, 
as  the  smoke  arose. 

Suddenly  this  man,  by  two  switches  of  a  sword  in  his  hand,  ex- 
torted loud  cries  from  both  Taylor  and  Anderson,  who  had  ceased 
to  fight. 

"Murder!     Oh!" 

"  Quarter  I     God  !  " 

Ouantrell  saw  this  small  officer's  elbow  and  bright  blade  thrust 
vengefully  again  and  right  into  the  bodies  of  the  same  unresisting 
and  unarmed  companions,  who  fell  howling  to  the  brick  floor. 

His  attention  was  for  a  moment  diverted  from  this  marine  officer 
by  a  second  one,  possibly  superior  in  rank  to  the  first,  who  came 
half-way  in  and  also  peered  around,  and  whose  countenance  was 
manly  but  unexcited. 

The  rifle  of  John  Brown  was  leveled  at  this  man  ;  Quantrell 
looked  to  see  him  fall  dead. 

Brown  kept  the  officer  under  his  merciless  aim  a  second,  and 
then,  seeing  more  marines  come  in,  he  put  his  rifle  down  and  drew 
the  sword  of  King  Frederick. 

His  act  was  beheld  by  the  first  marine-officer,  who  had  been 
looking  everywhere,  under  strong  excitement,  as  for  the  leader  of  this 
foray. 

This  officer  drew  his  bloody  blade,  bounded  upon  the  side  of  the 
engine,  and  with  all  his  might  slashed  the  old  leader  across  the  head, 
and  then,  by  an  upward  blow,  delivered  with  the  whole  fury  of  his 
feelings,  he  stabbed  John  Brown  and  felled  him  to  the  hard  floor  of 
the  engine-house. 

Hands  seized  one  of  the  engines  and  hurled  it  forward.  The 
door  fell  entirely  outward,  and  the  daylight  shone  upon  the  little 
prison  and  its  huddling  and  furious  or  frightened  beings  :  upon 
the  smoke,  the  cries,  the  curses — the  living,  the  groaning,  and  the 
dead. 

The  next  thing  Ouantrell  saw  was  the  rush  of  a  great  multitude 
from  the  railroads  and  the  river.     They  came  with  shrieks  of — 

"  Hang  them  !    hang  them  !  " 

While  groping  his  way  out,  Quantrell  saw  the  maddened  lieuten- 
ant of  marines,  who  had  killed  Anderson  and  Taylor  and  stabbed 
John  Brown,  strike  one  of  his  fellow-prisoners,  a  respectable  old 
Virginia  gentleman,  with  the  flat  of  his  sword. 

"  Shame,  sir !  "  cried  Quantrell. 


THE  FREE-STATE  LINE. 


231 


The  maniacal  officer  turned  upon  our  hero  and  smote  him,  also, 
with  the  flat  of  the  same  sword. 

Quantrell  staggered  backward  and  fell  into  a  strong  pair  of  arms. 

"  What !     Bruder  Lloyd.     You  here  }  " 

It  was  Luther  Bosler.  He  kissed  Lloyd  fervently  in  the  Dunker 
fashion. 

The  next  minute  Lloyd  Quantrell's  bleeding  face  was  passion- 
ately kissed  also  by  Katy  of  Catoctin. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE   FREE-STATE   LINE. 

When  Luther  Bosler  and  his  father  came  in  from  plowing  at 
the  premature  sounding  of  the  bell,  the  news  of  an  insurrection  at 
Harper's  Ferry  had  been  confirmed,  and  Katy  was  almost  distracted 
by  her  lover's  danger  and  the  loss  of  her  ring ;  while  Nelly  Harbaugh, 
whose  strong,  worldly  nature  kindled  at  the  great  neighboring  event, 
prodded  Luther  Bosler  to  take  both  the  girls  to  Virginia. 

"  Nay,"  Father  Jake  Bosler  entreated,  "  ic/ass  is  de  use  ?  Ich  cons 
net  goot  afforde.  Te  wheat -ground  ain't  a-ready,  Luter.  Stay 
away  from  worltly  contintions.  Trouble  comes  time  enough.  Bi'm- 
by." 

"  Fader,"  Katy  spoke,  "  Lloyd's  there  :  sell  is  olles." 

Saying  "That  is  all,"  she  broke  down,  and  Nelly  Harbaugh 
cried : 

"  Dawdy  Jake,  you're  hard  on  Katy  :  she's  nervous  ;  she's  grow- 
ing ;  it's  a  delicate  time  of  life  for  Katy." 

Jake  Bosler  took  his  child  in  his  arms  and  called  her  "  leeb  "  and 
"  dowb,"  while  the  turtle-doves  at  the  window  made  their  plaintive 
"  ah-coo-roo-coo-roo ! '' 

"  Katy,"  he  said,  "  you  is  too  good  for  te  city  mans.  Stay  with 
fader,  and  pe  te  likeness  of  my  Olty  to  my  poor  heart  till — Bi'm-by." 

His  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  he  called  her  the  only  likeness  of 
his  dead  wife.     Katy  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  crying : 

"Oh,  my  heart  pulls  both-a-ways !  But  Lloyd  pulls  it  the 
most ! " 

"Jake,"  spoke  Luther  Bosler,  after  reflection,  to  his  father,  "tese 


232 


KATV  OF  CATOCTLV. 


great  events  happens  py  us  for  some  good  purpose.  We  must  not 
fly  from  te  Lord's  works.  I'll  put  two  hands  in  my  place,  and  take 
te  girls." 

"  No,  Luter,  stay  home.     I'm  daddy,  and  I  forbid  you." 

"  I'm  minister  ofer  you.  Jake,  and  you  must  opey." 

"  Tere's  your  gal,  sohn  Luter — Nelly's  giddy.  Keep  her  at  home 
and  to  work,  and  you'll  haf  her  to  enjoy.  Take  her  into  te  world, 
and  she'll  find  temptation.     Bi'm-by." 

Luther  took  up  the  Bible  and  called  to  prayers ;  he  prayed  for 
Nelly  and  for  Katy.  and  for  peace  in  the  world. 

"  Now,  girls,"  he  said,  arising,  "  we'll  make  some  pusiness  out  of 
all  this.  Harper's  Ferry  is,  maype,  full  of  hungry  strangers.  You 
git  to  work  and  cook  pies,  chickens,  ham,  whatefer  will  sell,  and  I 
think  I  can  pring  home  to  fader  more  money  than  plowing  prings." 

Jake  Bosler  seemed  placated  at  this  business  outlook,  and  went 
to  the  stable  to  give  special  bedding  to  the  horses  for  the  jour- 
ney. 

All  night  the  girls  and  hands  stayed  up  to  cook,  and  before  day- 
light the  big  wagon,  with  two  seats  in  it,  was  moving  down  the  South 
Mountain  side.  Climbing  the  mountain,  they  saw  Burkettsville's 
spires  come  out  of  the  valley  mists,  and  in  Crampton's  Gap  the  early 
partridge  cried  "  Bob  White  !  "     Katy  slept  in  Nelly's  lap. 

"Pure  child,"  said  Nelly,  "her  worldly  love  is  fresh,  Luther,  as 
a  new-laid  tgg  in  the  hen's  nest ;  what  will  it  hatch  ?  " 

"  Experience,  dear.     If  you  are  in  love,  it  will  be  the  same." 

"  Luther,  you  are  too  wise  a  merchant  to  be  a  Dunker  preacher. 
You  will  get  rich  if  you  take  to  the  world.  Oh,  take  me  to  see  a  lit- 
tle of  the  world,  before  we  settle  into  everlasting  Sabbath  !  I  want 
experience,  too— what  Lloyd's  father  called  'career.'  There  is  no 
want  of  love  for  you,  my  darling,  in  my  heart,  but  I  am  not  made  " 
— she  blushed  as  she  thought  of  her  own  vanity — "  to  be  always  un- 
seen." 

"  No,"  said  Luther,  "you  are  peautiful,  Nelly.  You  shall  pe  seen 
of  children,  healthy  like  yourself,  and  one  of  those  is  more  career 
than  any  man  can  have.  To  be  a  mother,  supreme  ofer  a  family— it 
is  experience  only  one  man  efer  had,  and  that  was  Adam,  from 
whose  side  the  woman  came." 

She  blushed  at  the  moment's  anticipation  of  purely  brought 
motherhood  ;  but  suddenly  men  started  up  between  the  cross-roads 
in  Crampton's  Gap  and  seized  the  horses'  bridles. 


THE  FREE-STATE  LINE. 


233 


"  Money  ! "  exclaimed  one — a  slight,  stooping  youth,  with  pale 
blue  eyes  ;  "we  want  your  money  to  buy  subsistence." 

Around  them  were  seven  men,  one  a  negro,  and  all  the  rest 
white — travel-worn,  stern  young  men,  and  revolvers  were  in  their 
hands. 

"  You  are  fugitives  from  Harper's  Ferry,"  spoke  Luther,  looking 
at  them  out  of  his  large,  sluggish  eyes.  "  We  have  food  and  plenty 
of  it ;  take,  and  pay,  if  you  can.  But  we  carry  no  money  in  this 
country." 

They  ate  like  famished  men,  and  inquired  about  all  the  roads  to 
the  free  State. 

"  Walk  on  te  mountain-ridge,"  said  Luther;  "  it  is  wooded  and 
not  often  steep,  but  you  may  get  thirsty  for  water.  When  you  de- 
scend to  the  springs,  look  well  for  enemies.  Beware  at  te  free-State 
line  of  te  kidnappers,  who  are  probably  lying  in  wait  for  you.  Get 
well  into  Pennsylvania  before  you  descend  te  mountain — yes,  twenty 
miles." 

They  apologized  fcr  rudeness,  and  went  up  into  the  mountain- 
ridge,  northward,  while  Luther  turned  at  the  guide-post  in  the  Gap 
to  the  south,  and  threaded  the  narrow  Pleasant  Valley  by  the  wind- 
ing cascades  of  Israel's  Creek.  They  fed  at  the  Dunker  church- 
yard, at  Brownsville,  and  as  they  drew  near  Harper's  Ferrj',  be- 
fore sunrise,  the  roads  became  crowded.  All  the  country  was  up, 
and  Sandy  Hook  was  like  the  center  of  a  great  camp-meeting.  Sol- 
diery were  waiting  at  the  bridge,  travel  from  everywhere  stopped  at 
this  ragged  point,  and  time  continued  to  bring  more  and  more 
crowds.  The  old  man,  Isaac  Smith,  had  suspended  the  Western 
world  to  the  wand  of  his  mysterious  will. 

Luther  sold  out  his  load  before  he  crossed  the  bridge,  and  awaited 
the  preparations  to  storm  the  engine-house.  They  saw  the  marines 
formed,  and  the  quiet  Colonel  Lee  giving  the  signals  to  the  marine- 
officers  from  a  place  in  the  armory-yard ;  and  then  the  rush  of  thou- 
sands to  the  captured  stronghold. 

After  Katy  found  her  lover,  they  still  paused  to  see  the  dying  son 
of  Brown  led  out,  and  Lloyd  Quantrell  gave  him  water,  which  ran 
through  his  wounds ;  and  so,  in  time,  Watson  died  in  Coppock's 
arms,  peacefully  and  unconscious. 

Colonel  Washington  was  the  hero  of  the  delivery,  and  his  gest- 
ures, when  returning  felicitations,  had  the  grandeur  of  his  origin. 
The   mob   ran   his   hired   negro   into   the    river   Shenandoah   and 


234 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


drowned  him  there,  and  desired  to  tear  John  Brown  to  pieces,  also, 
but  he,  from  his  blood  and  bruises,  exclaimed  to  the  better  officer 
of  the  marines  ; 

"  Sir,  I  had  you  covered  with  my  rifle ;  I  expect  you  to  protect 
my  life,  as  I  protected  yours." 

The  officer  saluted  the  brave  old  man.  "  Captain  Brown," 
said  he,  "  I  thank  you ;  in  return,  I  will  protect  you  with  my 
life." 

Very  soon  the  queer  old  captive  was  complacently  conducting 
an  argument  with  the  Governor  of  Virginia,  a  man  of  great  roman- 
tic sensibility,  who  had  already  planned,  on  this  ^meute,  a  political 
campaign  to  make  him  President  of  the  United  States ;  and  the  two 
delightfully  vain  characters  were  entertaining  reporters,  Congress- 
men, and  militia-captains  with  their  sallies :  but  around  one  lay  his 
dead — sons,  sons-in-law,  and  com.rades ;  and  his  political  campaign 
would  lead  to  nothing  but  the  scaffold,  to  which  he  had  the  task  to 
give  dignity,  if  possible. 

He  turned  out  to  be  poor  as  pauperdom  itself,  without  the  means 
to  transport  himself  back  from  the  slave  States  to  the  free  States, 
had  he  ever  repented,  and  he  had  begged  the  little  money  for  this 
expedition  as  the  last  enterprise  of  a  disappointed  but  once  promis- 
ing career. 

■  The  bodies  of  his  sons  and  connections  were  either  taken  by 
surgeons  to  the  dissecting-room  at  Winchester,  or  buried  with  their 
comrades  in  a  pit  across  the  Shenandoah,  where  they  lie  near  the 
unending  grief  of  the  plaintive  river — poor  bones  of  boys  assembled 
by  a  wizard,  to  be  the  last  relics  of  a  mastodon  age,  and  ever  curi- 
ous to  moral,  mental,  and  political  science. 

Those  followers  of  Brown  who  sur\'ived,  fitted  to  his  situation 
with  the  anatomical  symmetry  of  his  own  ribs ;  they  continued  to 
accept  the  leadership  of  his  dignity,  philosophy,  and  consistency,  as 
they  had  followed  him  upon  that  forlorn  hope  to  which  his  sincerity 
had  given  infatuation  and  plausibility. 

Ned  Coppock,  taken  with  his  smoking  gun,  soon  became  a  hero 
among  his  captors  ;  Stevens  was  put  together,  like  a  bloody  puzzle ; 
and  these  two  were  sent  to  Charlestown  jail,  eight  miles  away,  with 
Captain  Brown,  in  a  wagon,  as  also  the  negroes,  Green  and  Cope- 
land,  while  the  pursuit  of  the  seven  fugitives  went  on  in  the  Mary- 
land and  Pennsylvania  mountains. 

The  whole  land  was  finally  convinced  that  John  Brown  had 


THE  FREE-STATE   LINE. 


235 


made  his  insurrection  with  an  "  army  "  of  only  twenty-three  men,  of 
whom  ten  had  died  fighting-. 

It  might  have  been  possible  to  treat  John  Brown's  raid  as  with- 
out full  moral  accountability,  and  thus  to  have  remanded  it,  by  the 
contempt  of  justice,  to  the  silence  of  a  lunatic  asylum  ;  but  the  poli- 
tician at  the  head  of  Virginia  became  the  instrument  to  connect  this 
little  affair  with  the  mightiest  revolution  of  the  age. 

Governor  Wise  summoned  the  military  of  Virginia  to  arms,  upon 
the  behef,  or  pretense,  that  Brown's  was  only  a  portion  of  a  general 
insurrection  and  abolition  invasion ;  and  the  little  court-house  place 
of  Charlestown  became,  for  five  months,  a  garrisoned  spot  during 
the  trials  and  executions  of  Brown  and  his  survivors,  while  the  ex- 
ample of  Virginia  led  to  the  arming  qf  every  slave  State,  and  thence 
proceeded  the  fomentation  of  the  scheme  of  a  separated  republic,  to 
assure  the  safety  of  slavery. 

To  Charlestown,  therefore,  let  us  soon  proceed  with  our  story- 
people. 

Katy  Bosler,  after  fondly  receiving  her  lover,  cried  : 

"  Te  accordion,  Lloyd  ;  where  is  it  }  " 

"  I  left  it  at  the  old  bandit's  farm,  Katy." 

"  Oh,  goodness !  And,  Lloyd,  te  fortune-teller,  who  said  I 
should  lose  my  ring,  has  run  away  with  it  to  Pennsylvania.  O 
darling,  what  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  Go  after  them  both,  Kate,  if  your  dear  Httle  heart  is  troubled. 
I  have  enlisted  in  one  of  the  military  companies  to  put  down  this  in- 
surrection, and  we  are  ordered  to  cross  the  river  and  see  if  the  enemy 
is  at  his  stronghold." 

"  Come  on,  then,"  said  Luther  Bosler ;  "  I'll  trife  by  John  Brown's 
farm,  and  go  home  by  Solomon's  Gap." 

As  they  were  setting  out,  the  English  pointer  appeared,  profuse 
in  his  gladness  of  rejoining  friends ;  and  to  Katy  he  was  ever  a  flat- 
terer, cringing  at  her  feet  and  licking  her  hand. 

"  The  hound  loves  you,  Kate,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  said  ;  "  I'll  give 
him  to  you,  to  keep  at  the  farm  in  remembrance  of  me." 

At  the  school-house  in  the  marsh,  boxes  of  arms  were  found, 
ready  to  be  transported  to  Virginia.  At  the  little  rugged  farm,  they 
found  many  evidences  of  the  conspiracy  :  letters  torn  to  pieces  in 
the  short,  thick  pines,  and  arms  and  lead  in  the  tenement  of  logs 
across  the  road ;  discarded  bundles,  boxes,  and  bags ;  and  on  the  porch 
the  dog  Fritz  stood  tied,  and  hardly  disposed  to  permit  intrusion. 


236  KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 

Lloyd  attempted  to  go  by  this  dog,  to  look  for  Knty's  accordion, 
and  Fritz  seized  him  by  the  garments  and  held  him  fast, 

"  Hallo  !  "  Quantrell  said ;  "  why,  here's  the  last  of  Captain 
Brown's  recruits,  and  determined  as  all  the  rest." 

"  Fritz  is  a  faithful  friend,"  said  Luther  Bosler ;  "  not  as  valu- 
able a  dog  as  yours,  Lloyd,  but  more  reliable.  Katy  will  gif  him  to 
you." 

"  Yes,  Lloyd,  if  I  find  you  took  good  care  of  my  accordion." 

Quantrell  disappeared  into  the  loft  of  the  small  cabin,  and  there 
he  found  the  humble  instrument  under  the  eaves. 

"  Here  it  is,  Kate,"  he  cried,  returning;  "you  little  goosey,  what 
makes  you  fear  ?  " 

"  Now  go  and  find  her  ring,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  spoke;  "it  was 
your  mother's ;  it  will  make  Katy  your  wife.  Hannah  Ritner  has 
gone  to  the  Siebentager  Nunnery,  only  a  day's  ride  from  here,  in 
Pennsylvania." 

"  Shall  I  go,  darling.^  "     He  turned  to  Katy. 

"  O  Lloyd,  do  go  !    De  letsht  naucht  wars  orrick  dunkle." 

"  Dark  was  that  night,  also,  to  me,  bright  eyes,  when  I  expected 
to  be  killed  and  never  see  you  more." 

"  Lloyd,  your  father  says  he  will  marry  you  to  a  Cordullisk — a 
Catholic,  one  hochmoot  un  reich.  If  you  do  not  find  my  ring,  I 
shall  believe  it." 

"  Dear  old  father  !  But  he  can  no  more  make  me  love  another 
than  he  can  love  me,  dear.  How  does  he  know  this  strange  Ritner 
woman  }     Why,  now  I  see  something  !  " 

"  What  is  it,  Lloyd  ?  " 

"  That  pony  she  rides  I  have  seen  in  my  father's  stable.  He, 
like  Hannah  Ritner,  is  an  abolitionist." 

As  they  paused  to  let  the  horses  blow  on  Elk  Ridge  Mountain 
summit,  the  vale  of  John  Brown  was  seen  behind  them,  stony  and 
steep,  and  before  them  the  verdurous  Pleasant  Valley,  with  its  stone 
farm-houses  and  apple-orchards,  and,  like  a  great,  green  vine  swung 
low,  the  South  Mountain  drooped  to  Crampton's  Gap,  to  give  ad- 
mission to  the  Catoctin  Valley. 

"  Katy,  good-by,"  Lloyd  said  ;  "  don't  ever  fear  for  me,  gentle 
child !  Never  in  love  before,  I  could  not  forget  you  now,  if  every 
interest  declared  against  you." 

"  I  shall  nefer  let  you  go,"  the  child  said,  with  a  resolution  he 
had  not  observed  in  her  before.     "  Since  you  haf  come,  Love  has 


THE  FREE-STATE  LINE. 


237 


took  possession  of  me.  I  will  pray ;  I  will  persevere.  I  don't  see 
how  I  anm  to  get  you,  Lloyd,  but  I  don't  dare  to  lose  you." 

"  O  Katy ! "  exclaimed  Nelly  Harbaugh,  "  the  difel  of  love  is 
striving  in  you  as  I  never  saw  it  before.  I  could  not  be  so  head- 
strong." 

"  Nelly,"  spoke  Katy,  in  the  tempest  of  her  woe  and  courage, 
"  you  can  never  love  like  me !  " 

Procuring  a  horse  from  a  Dunker  farm,  on  Minister  Luther  Bos- 
ler's  request,  Quantrell  made  his  way  to  Smoketown,  and  entered 
the  garden  of  Hannah  Ritner. 

The  cool  mountain-brook  gurgled  through  her  lot ;  the  gourds 
hung  from  the  arbors  ;  the  bees  were  humming  drowsily  in  the  hive  ; 
but  stable  and  dwelling  were  empty  of  furniture,  and  the  mountain 
behind  the  house  was  streaked  with  the  foot-tracks  of  escaping 
slaves. 

The  neighbors  told  him  that  the  fortune-teller  was  a  great  trav- 
eler, especially  into  Pennsylvania,  and  was  now  reported  to  be  in 
Chambersburg. 

Quantrell  put  his  horse  in  Hannah  Ritner's  stable,  and  lay  down 
to  sleep  alone  in  the  little  hut.  He  was  very  tired,  and  not  until  he 
had  slept  off  his  burden  of  fatigue  did  he  begin  to  dream. 

He  dreamed  that  his  mother's  lost  wedding-ring  was  a  great 
wheel  or  tire  of  mourning  gold,  with  black  enamel  in  its  rich  yellow, 
and  he  was  trying  to  roll  it  like  a  hoop  up  the  mountain  ;  but  it 
weighed  heavily  upon  his  sinews,  and  he  felt  it  overthrowing  him 
with  its  backward  gravity ;  he  cried  for  help,  but  all  the  response  he 
could  hear  was  a  Httle  baby's  cry,  until,  when  he  had  given  up  hope 
and  resigned  himself  to  be  crushed  by  the  black  and  gleaming  cinct- 
ure, a  pike  or  spear  was  hurled  from  above,  as  if  out  of  the  sky, 
and  it  transfixed  the  mighty  ring,  like  a  dart  ringed  by  a  golden 
quoit ;  at  once  the  ring  was  fractured,  and  the  black  enamel  upon 
it  was  detached  like  a  separate  hoop,  and  went  thundering  down 
South  Mountain  with  a  sound  like  rolling  fire,  and  he  could  hear  it 
plunge  into  the  Antietam  Creek  and  sizz  there,  like  the  red-hot  stones 
which,  at  hog-butchering  time,  the  farmers  boil  their  scalding  hogs- 
heads with. 

Dart  after  dart  came  ringing  from  above — the  very  pikes,  it 
seemed,  that  he  had  seen  in  boxes  that  day  at  the  bandits'  rendez- 
vous— and  each  of  these  entered  the  other  lucent  rim  of  virgin  gold 
remaining  there,  which,  like  a  mirror,  flashed  the  heavens  back,  and. 


238  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

becoming  magnified  to  powerful  proportions,  this  ring  contained  an 
inscription,  "  Pure  Union." 

Quantrell  was  afraid  to  look  up  and  see  what  valkyrias  or  spirits 
had  hurled  those  lances  into  the  nuptial  band  ;  but,  as  the  golden  rim 
grew  more  and  more  distinct,  he  began  to  see  faint  faces  reflected 
from  the  sky — faces  with  blood  upon  them  :  the  ashen  face  of  Wat- 
son Brown,  the  bloodless  blue  lips  of  Oliver  Brown,  the  raven 
beard  and  wounds  of  Kagi,  the  hollow  sphere  of  Lehman's  skull,  the 
mute,  appealing  countenance  of  William  Thompson,  and  others  he 
feared  to  pause  and  think  on. 

He  awoke :  at  the  little  window  of  the  cabin  a  golden-ringed 
light  of  a  burning  piece  of  pine  illuminated  a  group  of  faces  pressed 
against  the  panes.     Quantrell  raised  a  yell  of  dread. 

The  light  was  extinguished ;  steps  were  heard  receding. 

"  This  is  a  witch's  den  !  "  thought  Quantrell,  his  heart  bounding 
in  his  breast ;  "  surely  I  saw  the  faces  there  of  old  John  Brown, 
of  Ned  Coppock,  and  of  Hazlett,  Cook,  and  others  of  their 
band." 

He  entered  Hagerstown  next  day,  and  found  the  whole  popula- 
tion talking  of  the  raid,  and  looking  at  himself  and  at  all  strangers 
with  suspicion.  Large  rewards  were  out  for  Cook  and  others, 
guessed  at  or  known,  and  Isaac  Smith,  or  Brown,  had  been  seen  by 
half  the  people  in  the  town,  hauling  away  the  boxes  of  arms  he  had 
received  by  rail  from  Chambersburg. 

To  that  place  Quantrell  fearlessly  proceeded,  taking  a  round- 
about course  through  a  famous  kidnappers'  settlement  called 
Leitersburg,  within  sight  of  the  Pennsylvania  boundary-line.  Here 
the  tavern  was  beset  by  wild-looking  borderers,  and  Quantrell  nar- 
rowly escaped  being  made  to  stop  and  fight,  according  to  the 
chivalry  of  those  times  ;  he  "  treated  "  liberally  at  the  bar,  and  was 
relieved  to  find  that  the  Logan  brothers,  whose  chief  rendezvous 
this  was,  had  gone  off  in  the  South  Mountain  to  hunt  for  John 
Brown's  fugitives. 

Resolved  to  keep  his  word  to  Katy,  the  young  man  slowly  con- 
tinued on  to  Chambersburg,  a  flourishing  shire  town,  twenty  miles 
within  Pennsylvania,  and  there,  too,  the  excitement  about  the  great 
abolition  raid  was  universal. 

Hundreds  of  people  stood  before  an  old,  low  warehouse  with 
derrick  windows,  where  John  Brown  had  stored  his  Kansas  rifles 
so  long  before  employing  them  ;  and  threatening  groups  molested  a 


THE  FREE-STATE  LINE. 


239 


plain  boarding-house  on  a  back  street,  where  the  recruits  for 
Brown,  and  that  redoubtable  captain  himself,  had  been  accommo- 
dated with  Christian  shelter. 

The  keeper  of  this  dwelling  bore  the  same  family  name  as  Han- 
nah Ritner,  and  was  said  to  be  a  daughter-in-law  of  a  former  Gov- 
ernor of  Pennsylvania,  but  Lloyd  found  such  apprehension  and 
terror  in  the  family  that  he  could  get  no  information  of  their 
mysterious  connection,  though  he  thought,  when  he  said  he  was 
the  son  of  Abel  Quantrell,  that  they  took  a  suspicious  interest  in 
him  for  a  moment. 

The  Governor  of  Pennsylvania  was  a  Democrat,  of  the  same 
political  party  as  the  Governor  of  Virginia,  and  would  manifestly 
deliver  any  of  Brown's  band  up  to  the  jurisdiction  they  had 
offended.  The  Pennsylvania  public  considered  Brown's  greatest 
offense  to  have  been  the  purloining  the  sword  of  General  Washing- 
ton ;  and  it  was  thought  hardly  less  culpable  to  have  provided  a 
"  nigger  "  with  bed  and  board  in  a  white  family. 

The  person  that  all  popular  vengeance  was  now  directed  against 
was  little  Captain  Cook,  the  forerunner  and  spy  of  the  raiders,  and 
he  was  believed  to  be  in  the  very  county  of  Scotch  and  Irish  settlers 
where  Quantrell  was  now  wandering. 

Considering  that  Hannah  Ritner  might  be  at  the  Seventh-Day 
Baptist  kloster  or  nunnery,  Lloyd,  several  days  after  the  raid,  turned 
his  horse  southward  and  began  to  approach  the  bright  bounding 
hillocks  of  the  South  Mountain  again.  Toward  evening  he  entered 
an  old  German  hamlet  called  Funkstown,  near  the  clove  of  the 
mountain,  where  the  source  of  the  Antietam  Creek  ran  out,  dis- 
colored with  the  ores  of  iron  from  an  old  furnace  in  the  gorge. 
The  aspect  of  the  region  was  romantic,  yet  sinister,  as  if  the  near 
contact  of  slavery  had  caused  premature  decay  and  human  degra- 
dation. He  was  eating  his  plain  supper  in  the  tavern,  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  little  town,  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  many  feet  in 
the  small  sitting-room  and  bar,  near  by. 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  me,  boys ;  I  won't  do  you  any  harm,"  he 
heard  a  not  unfamiliar  voice  say. 

Looking  out,  Quantrell  saw  a  mob  of  little  boys,  trembling  in 
the  presence  of  one  hardly  bigger  than  the  least  of  them. 

This  childish  figure  had  his  hands  tied  behind  him,  and  was 
dirty  and  disordered,  like  one  who  had  been  living  in  the  holes  of 
foxes,  or  crawling  on  the  earth  like  the  serpents  there. 


240  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"Eat  your  supper,"  spoke  a  practical  voice;  "we  must  have 
you  in  Chambersburg  Jail  to-night,  so  be  quick." 

The  speaker  had  a  low,  mercenary  sparkle  in  his  eyes.  His 
victim's  long-fringed  orbs  of  blue  shone  out  amid  his  dirt,  and  gave 
him  some  of  the  pathos  and  dignity  of  fate. 

"  Poor  Captain  Cook  !  "  Ouantrell  exclaimed  ;  "to  think  that  he 
can  be,  in  the  eyes  of  any  law,  a  worse  being  than  his  captor,  that 
vile  slave-taker !  " 

"  If  you  mean  Ben  Logan,"  cried  a  plain  man  at  the  table,  "  I 
pray  you  not  to  speak  so  loud.  He  has  his  slave-pen  close  by  us 
here,  under  the  mountain,  and  in  this  clove  the  runaway  slaves 
generally  come  down,  thinking  they  are  full  ten  miles  inside  of  a 
free  State.  Logan  takes  them  here,  and  gets  his  blood-money  ;  and 
he  has  a  band  of  lads  he  has  demoralized,  who  would  stop  at  no  re- 
venge." 

Nevertheless,  Ouantrell  made  no  concealment  of  his  person ;  the 
slave-taker  looked  at  him  with  some  dislike,  but  it  was  now  all  sub- 
ordinated to  the  avarice  of  a  thousand  dollars'  reward. 

"John,"  said  Quantrell  to  the  boy,  who  had  washed  his  face  and 
was  eating  like  a  famished  wolf,  as  he  stood  before  the  drinking-bar, 
"  what  did  you  quit  the  safe  mountain  for  ?  " 

"Starvation!"  replied  Cook;  "  my  companions  were  dying  for 
food,  and  I  quit  them  to  find  it." 

"  You  might  as  well  have  sold  life  dear ;  you  will  surely  be  exe- 
cuted." 

"  They  surprised  me,"  said  Cook,  the  food  sticking  in  his  throat, 
as  his  feelings  rose.  "  But  for  their  treachery',  I  would  have  taken 
a  bloodhound's  life  for  every  ball  in  my  revolver." 

"  Oh,"  said  another  captor  of  the  boy,  complimentarily,  "  he 
fought  like  a  wild  monkey.  Four  of  us  was  atop  of  him  at  once,  and 
the  fattest  feller  had  jest  to  fall  on  him  and  knock  the  breath  out  of 
him  before  he  would  give  in." 

"  I  pity  you.  Cook,"  Quantrell  said  ;  "  though  you,  also,  played  a 
treacherous  part." 

"  You  may  well  pity  me,  sir,"  the  frail  little  man  said,  with  swim- 
ming eyes  ;  "  my  comrades  have  no  great  friends,  and  can  die  with 
sincerity,  while  my  distinguished  relatives  will  ruin  my  fame  to  save 
my  neck,  and  I  shall  be  hanged  all  the  same." 

They  took  him  to  Chambersburg  Jail  in  the  pleasant  autumn  aft- 
ernoon.   The  news  soon  came  that  Hazlett,  too,  was  recaptured  at 


THE  FREE-STATE  LINE. 


241 


Carlisle  ;  but  the  brother  of  Coppock,  and  another  son  of  John  Brown, 
and  two  other  whites  and  a  negro,  under  the  kind  vigilance  of  Han- 
nah Ritner's  friends,  escaped  to  Canada. 

As  Quantrell  was  walking  up  into  the  gorge  at  Mount  Alto  fur- 
nace, looking  at  the  spot  where  Cook  had  been  taken,  after  an  ex- 
citing struggle,  an  employe  at  the  iron-works  said  : 

"  Are  you  aware  that  the  patron  of  John  Brown  is  a  relative  of 
the  chief  captor  of  this  Captain  Cook  ?  " 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  The  papers  say  that  the  great  abolitionist,  Gerrit  Smith,  gave 
the  land  in  the  Adirondack  woods,  where  John  Brown's  family  live. 
Now,  Gerrit  Smith  married  the  daughter  of  Colonel  Fitzhugh,  of 
Hagerstown,  and  she  is  the  aunt  of  that  other  man  who,  with  Logan, 
took  Cook  away  to  claim  the  reward.  So  the  aunt  helps  Brown  and 
his  band  to  come  here,  and  her  nephew  sells  him  to  Virginia." 

"Strange,"  said  Quantrell,  "what  coincidences  lie  in  this  short 
vale  of  the  Antietam  !  We  may  be  on  the  brink  of  a  great  strife,  and, 
if  so,  the  hurrying  fates  that  have  encamped  in  this  small  district 
may  keep  it  still  in  their  commemoration." 

He  next  rode  down  the  strong  brook  of  the  Antietam,  to  the  old 
Seventh-Day  Baptist  nunnery. 

It  stood  in  a  crevice  of  the  mountain  foot-lands,  where  a  meadow 
bubbled  up  in  copious  springs  which,  fashioned  into  a  bed,  wound 
in  a  strong  brook  between  the  long  brick  monastery  and  the  low, 
massive,  white-plastered  church,  and  then,  caught  up  in  a  mill-race, 
turned  two  old  Dunker  mills.  The  dwelling,  or  kloster-house,  was 
nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  and  of  a  delightfully  broken 
form,  with  a  great -chimneyed,  squatting  kitchen  in  the  middle, 
flanked  by  long  conventional  wings — on  one  side  a  cool  porch  and 
several  doors,  the  other  side  more  primitively  German,  with  little 
lines  of  windows,  and  over  the  center  dormers  rose  the  naked  cupola 
and  bell.  The  gurgling  brook,  talking  at  its  birthplace,  described 
such  gossipy  rounds  of  flowing,  that  all  the  parts  of  this  settlement 
seemed  to  be  in  a  circle,  and  fruit  sprang  out  of  the  earth  as  if  here 
was  some  old  corner  of  Paradise,  neglected  but  uncursed.  The  hu- 
mid spring  meadow  was  tinted  with  blue  sedge  and  flpwers,  and  a 
pond  in  the  midst  was  their  looking-glass.  Woods  and  rocks  shut 
in  the  church,  and  its  two  doors  that  separated  the  vexing  mystery 
of  sex ;  cultivated  hills  hid  the  nunnery  from  the  south  ;  the  cedar, 
fern,  ailantus,  catalpa,  apple,  and  pear  trees  gave  grateful  shade ; 


242 


KATY  OF  CATOCriN. 


and  milk  and  cider  showed  their  butteries  and  presses  to  the  covet- 
ous eye  of  the  homeless  tramp,  for  whose  terror  a  sign  was  put  on 
the  door,  which  none  of  his  brotherhood  was  ever  known  to  heed. 
Close  by,  the  graveyard  showed  the  tombs  of  the  Snowbergers,  for 
whom  Snow  Hill  (berg)  w^as  named,  and  of  their  Ephrata-reared 
friends  ;  and  the  South  Mountain,  losing  its  coherence  here  in  Penn- 
sylvania, described  great  hillocks  and  cones  near  by,  and  in  the 
south  showed  the  blue  promontory  in  which  it  crossed  the  free- 
State  line,  and  then  swerved  irresolutely  away. 

Quantrell  looked  everywhere  for  some  human  being  to  speak  to. 
Finally,  he  saw  people — women  and  men — off  in  the  fields  reaping 
late  hay  and  preparing  winter  ground.  He  remembered  that  it  was 
the  Sabbath,  when  the  contrary  zeal  of  sect  impelled  even  the  lazy 
Seventh- Dayers  to  exert  themselves,  lest  they  might  be  thought  to 
respect  the  Sabbath  they  had  discarded. 

He  spoke  to  some  of  the  women,  but  they  paid  not  the  least  at- 
tention to  him — old,  fat,  dull  women,  like  winter  apples,  never  ripe 
nor  mellow ;  they  wore  their  hoods  of  figured  brown  or  black  calico, 
and  plied  their  rakes,  and  seemed  between  a  blush  and  contempt  of 
man. 

"  Are  you  Job  Snowberger }  '  he  addressed  the  solitary  man 
among  these  ancient  pullets. 

The  man-  looked  at  him,  with  a  countenance  where  gallantry  had 
been  suppressed  and  curiosity  flagellated,  an  envious,  simple  smile, 
and  proceeded  to  whet  his  scythe. 

"  Are  you  deaf,  or  only  a  fool  }  " 

"  Uiishicklich  I "  exclaimed  the  man,  with  a  piping  cry,  like  a 
disappointed  child's,  and  his  mouth  turned  toward  the  women. 

These  came  upon  Quantrell  with  their  field  implements,  all 
shouting  German  words  together,  and  one  or  two  looked  as  if  desir- 
ous to  fight  a  man,  if  merely  for  the  novelty  of  encounter. 

"  I'm  a-tryin'  to  persewere,"  cried  the  man,  with  tears  of  temper 
in  his  eyes,  "and  he  calls  me  Norr." 

The  women  raised  their  rakes  and  hoes  on  Quantrell. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  Lloyd  said  ;  "  the  last  rooster  on  the  hill,  and 
protected  by  the  hens  !  But  don't  be  violent,  my  beauties.  I  only 
want  to  find  Hannah  Ritner,  for  little  Katy  Bosler." 

"JVass/"  exclaimed  the  man,  "is  Katy  persewerin'?  Uiishul- 
dich!  Does  she  seek  te  Kloster  and  te  heiltch  life.?  O  yube- 
lee  !  " 


CHA  RLE  S  TO  WN.  243 

"  Week gae!  "  cried  the  old  women,  turning  back  to  their  work, 
as  if  disgusted  with  such  enthusiasm. 

"  I'm  Katy's  beau — Lloyd — and  I  want  to  find  Hannah  Ritner, 
and  get  Katy's  engagement-ring." 

"Weck-gae/  Depart!"  cried  Job  Snowberger,  again  in  tears. 
"  Shweshter  Marcella  is  in  Ohio.  Katy  is  in  sin.  You  are  in  mis- 
chief, and  you'll  persewere  in  it.  Te  ring  of  Bosler's  child  is  lost  in 
te  spring." 

He  pointed  to  an  old  dairy  by  the  nunnery-kitchen,  and,  falling 
tearfully  to  his  reaping,  began  to  wail  a  piping  psalm. 

"  Gone  mad  betwixt  love  and  scorn  of  love,  I  reckon,"  Ouantrell 
said,  walking  to  the  dairy-house. 

Lying  there  on  the  floor  was  Andrew  Atzerodt,  beside  the  troughs 
of  water,  an  empty  bottle  at  his  side.  His  snore  was  relieved  by  the 
falsetto  of  Job  Snowberger  in  the  meadow,  sounding  Hke  a  babe's 
complaint. 

Quantrell  bent  over  the  spring,  and  in  it  the  light,  falling  upon 
some  tin  or  metal  object,  described  a  shining  circle  in  the  bubbles. 

"  That's  what  the  poor  lunatic  meant  by  Katy's  ring,  I  reckon," 
Ouantrell  said  ;  "  he's  '  gone  '  on  Katy,  like  myself." 

Atzerodt  aroused,  and  looked  up  wofully. 

"  Here,  you  vagrant  fellow,  come  back  with  me  to  Virginia,  and 
to  your  coach-maker's  trade  !  " 

"Never!"  answered  Atzerodt;  "I'm  doing  nothing  now  but 
hunting  niggers  and  apolitionists,  and  running  petween  te  lines." 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

CHARLESTOWN. 

As  Atzerodt  and  Quantrell  walked  into  Charlestown,  Virginia, 
after  many  delays,  they  found  it  convenient  to  take  one  of  the  side 
streets,  and  avoid  the  herds  of  militia;  for  the  entire  State  had 
knocked  off  work,  and  was  making  Brown's  immortality  with  more 
than  the  directness  of  superior  intelligence. 

It  had  suited  the  prevailing  opinion  there  to  assume  the  gravity 
of  a  great  injury,  too  deep  to  permit  any  other  State  to  share  it.  The 
inhabitants,  talking  on  the  subject  to  strangers,  adopted  a  reserve 


244 


A'ATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


which  showed  how  the  sensitiveness  of  slaveholding  had  destroyed 
personal  individuality,  and  banded  into  almost  maudlin  one-minded- 
ness,  like  Niobe  and  her  family,  a  society  scarcely  beyond  its  pioneer 
period ;  for  a  house  where  Atzerodt  stopped  to  peep  in  was,  like 
many  others,  composed  of  recently  hewn  forest  logs.  He  drew 
back  in  a  moment  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Py  Jing  !  tere's  te  black  man  with  te  white  face  !  " 

Quantrell  approached  the  shutters  ajar,  and,  at  the  first  adjust- 
ment of  the  light  within  to  his  eyes,  he  cried : 

"  Why,  that's  John  Booth,  the  actor,  my  friend  and  school- 
mate ! " 

A  young  man  with  a  large,  intelligent  face,  given  pale  contrast 
by  his  rich,  black  mustache  and  curling  black  hair,  was  reciting  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  listened  to  by  males  and  females  with  the 
greatest  interest. 

"  It's  te  very  picture  of  te  man  I  rode  with  in  my  dream,  py 
Jing !  "  Atzerodt  continued. 

The  reciter  within  ended  his  task  with  these  lines,  given  with 
robust  and  nearly  impassioned  vehemence  : 

"  Heroic  matron  ! 
Now,  now,  the  hour  is  come  !     By  this  one  blow 
Her  name's  immortal  and  her  country  saved. 
Hail,  dawn  of  glory  !     Hail,  thou  sacred  weapon  ! 
Virtue's  deliverer,  hail ! " 

"  Look,  Lloyd  !  "  whispered  Atzerodt.  "  Py  Jing !  he's  got  a 
knife  in  his  hand,  shoost  like  te  black  man  with  te  white  face !  " 

The  young  actor  did  shake  above  his  head,  and  apostrophize  it 
fervently,  a  glittering  thing — continuing  : 

"  Did  not  the  Sibyl  tell  you 
A  fool  should  set  Rome  free  ?     I  am  that  fool ! 

Hear  me,  great  Jove  !  and  thou,  paternal  Mars, 

And  spotless  Vesta  !     To  the  death,  I  swear, 

My  burning  vengeance  shall  pursue  these  Tarquins ! 

Valerius,  CoUatine,  Lucretius — all — 

Here  I  adjure  ye  by  this  fatal  dagger, 

All  stained  and  reeking  with  her  sacred  blood, 

Be  partners  in  my  oath — revenge  her  fall ! 


CHARLESTOWN. 


245 


Up  to  the  forum  !     On  !  the  least  delay 

May  draw  down  ruin,  and  defeat  our  glory. 

On,  Romans,  on  !     The  fool  shall  set  you  free  !  " 

Loud  applause  followed  the  reciter's  tragedy-selection,  from 
the  same  author  whose  piece  of  "  Sweet  Home  "  had  been  the  bat- 
tle-march of  John  Brown.  In  a  moment  the  actor  came  out,  fol- 
lowed by  some  of  his  more  intimate  admirers,  and  he  called  affec- 
tionately to  Quantrell : 

"  My  dear  Lloyd,  where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Maryland,  John.     And  you  .''  " 

"  From  Richmond.  I  threw  up  my  engagement  at  the  theatre 
there  when  I  heard  of  this  outrage,  and  enlisted  in  the  Grays ;  and 
I  am  here  to  stay  till  these  myrmidons  are  hanged  and  Virginia 
avenged.  Let  me  introduce  you  to  my  friends— Mr,  Arnold,  Mr. 
O'Laughlin,  young  Master  Herold,  and  Mr.  Fenwick,  of  the  clergy." 

Quantrell  hesitated  about  introducing  Atzerodt,  who  was  un- 
shaved  and  shabby,  but  he  saw  that  Booth's  following  was  hardly 
more  genteel. 

Arnold  he  had  seen,  as  a  Baltimore  bread-baker's  son  of  the  old 
German  stock;  O'Laughlin,  as  a  runner  in  that  city,  of  the  opposite 
political  party.  Herold  was  a  mere  lad  from  Washington,  modest 
and  wondering ;  and  Fenwick,  who  wore  a  black  suit  neatly  buttoned 
to  the  throat,  and  had  a  silver  watch-guard,  was  a  fresh,  square-set 
blonde,  with  the  dignity  of  the  Catholic  novitiate  priest  that  he  was. 

"  Who  is  your  friend,  Lloyd  .''  "  asked  the  actor.  "  We  are  all 
Virginians  here." 

"This  is  one  also,  I  believe — Mr.  Atzerodt." 

Booth  shook  the  common  fellow's  hand  with  such  kindness  that 
he  stammered  out : 

"  Say  !  Vere  is  dat  womans  dat  said  '  Sharge ! '  te  night  we 
rode  up  te  Short  Mountain.?  " 

"What  does  he  say.>  "  asked  Booth. 

"  Oh,  he  had  a  dream,  when  he  was  tipsy,  and  so  he  is  tipsy  now, 
and  he  thinks  he  saw  you  in  that  dream." 

"  Oh,  some  people  are  carried  away  by  the  acting,"  remarked 
Booth,  considerately,  as  they  walked  along.  "  Now,  do  you  know, 
I  don't  set  much  value  on  acting  ?  This  is  what  I  like— real  cam- 
paigning. Here  is  meat  for  your  John  Howard  Paynes  to  write 
about — the  coming  of  the  Tarquins  to  this  beautiful  valley,  their 
murdering  of  its  yeomanry,  and  inciting  servile  insurrection  ;  and  who 


246 


KATY  OF   CATOCriN. 


would  not  prefer  to  be  Junius  Brutus,  to  either  the  author  or  the 
player  of  his  part  ?  Think  of  the  time  when  the  hero  of  a  convul- 
sion like  this  will  be  the  subject  of  poetry,  and,  as  he  inflicts  revenge 
for  Virginia's  injuries,  he  utters  the  motto  Jefferson  gave  the  shield 
of  the  insulted  State,  'Sic  semper  tyrannis T  'Thus  ever  with 
tyrants ! '  " 

Halting  as  he  spoke,  Mr.  Booth  put  his  foot  upon  a  stone  riding- 
step  at  the  curb,  as  upon  a  tyrant's  head,  and  again  raised  his  white 
hand  and  eloquent  face  to  the  sunlight. 

Quantrell  now  saw  that  Booth  had  been  drinking  a  little,  and  was 
unusually  aggressive. 

"  The  stage,"  said  the  divinity  student,  Fenwick,  much  impressed 
by  Mr.  Booth's  trained  pulpit  manner,  "  has  never  illustrated  morals 
as  it  might  do,  Mr.  Booth,  in  gentlemen  bred  for  it,  from  religious 
homes  like  yours.  That,  perhaps,  is  why  actors  seldom  realize  in 
private  life  the  affected  virtues  they  delineate.  Yet  there  is  no  rea- 
son why  an  actor  may  not  be  a  hero,  too." 

"  He  can't  be.  Father  Fenwick  "  (the  "  father  "  a  deferential  ref- 
erence to  the  youthful  priest's  canonicals) ;  "  the  actor  is  a  closet-rat, 
a  caged-up  hawk.  He  must  make  so  many  paces  to  the  rear,  turn 
and  fence,  or  strike,  at  such  a  distance  from  the  foot-lights,  go  off 
by  this  or  that  numbered  slide  or  exit ;  and  all  that  preparation  to 
deceive  or  impersonate  is  called  '  study.'  Here  is  the  nobler  theatre 
of  the  roads,  the  cross-paths,  the  ravines,  and  the  country  maids. 
If  I  had  been  at  Harper's  Ferry,  there  would  have  been  a  chance : 
I  am  the  best  shot  in  the  profession  ;  I  can  jump  like  a  circus-nder. 
My  study  has  not  been  of  dog-eared  play-books,  like  my  father's 
other  sons :  I  have  qualified  myself  for  a  soldier  and  a  champion. 
With  two  or  three  good  drinks  in  me,  I  would  have  been  the  man 
to  give  old  Brown's  party  the  start  they  wanted,  and  tell  off  an 
equal  number  of  brave  men  with  them,  and  chase  them  up  the 
canal  side  of  the  river,  killing  as  we  went,  or  dying  in  our  blood. 
What  a  death,  or  victory,  would  that  have  been  ! " 

His  animated,  yet  hardly  egotistical  manner,  made  its  impres- 
sion, and  O'Laughlin  said : 

"  Wilkes,  I've  seen  you  fence,  and  jump,  and  spar,  too,  and  I 
know  how  you  parley  vous  of  it." 

"And,  John,  I've  seen  you  ride  the  devilishest -horses  in  Harford 
or  Howard  Counties,"  Arnold  added,  "  and  you  never  got  throwed 
neither." 


CHARLES  TOWN. 


247 


"  You  ain't  a  bad  man  to  be  out  with  for  a  scrimmage,  after  mid- 
night," added  Quantrell,  "  as  I  have  found  out." 

The  recipient  of  these  compliments  took  them  with  a  good  na- 
ture which  had  yet  a  manful  health  in  it ;  he  was  not  a  tall  man,  but 
of  strong-welded,  equal  bodily  parts,  the  arms  showing  large  muscle 
under  his  soldier- sleeves ;  and  he  was  a  little  bowed  in  the  legs,  but 
this  was  only  noticeable  when  one  measured  him  for  athletic  utili- 
ties. His  figure  was  so  gentlemanly  that  he  never  would  have  been 
suspected  of  any  physical  affectations  or  prowess,  but  for  his  own 
reference  to  those  subjects,  which  Quantrell,  who  knew  him  long, 
ascribed  to  his  having  drunk  some  liquor.  The  soldier-clothes  and 
pompon  hat  he  wore  admirably  became  his  trim  figure  and  striking 
yet  harmonious  face,  lighted  by  fine  black  eyes  and  in  all  its  features 
clear  and  considerate. 

"  Py  Jing  ! "  exclaimed  Atzerodt,  "  I  played  on  te  theatre,  too  !  " 

"  You  }  "  from  Quantrell, 

"  Yes,  py  Jing  !  I  built  the  biggest  band-wagon  for  te  circus  dat 
ever  started  from  Fergeenia.  It  was  shoost  as  long  as  dis  street. 
It  held  most  a  hundert  music-players.     I  trove  it,  py  Jing — " 

"And  what  then,  old  fellow.?"  Mr.  Booth  asked,  with  mis- 
chief in  his  eye,  throwing  an  arm  affectionately  around  the  boy 
Herold. 

"  Why,  I  trove  it  into  a  ditch,  py  Jing,  and  proke  te  heads  of 
tem  tam  horn-blowers  !     Hya,  ya  !  " 

All  laughed  loudly  at  Atzerodt's  manner  and  terrier-bark  of  a 
laugh ;  and  so  they  walked  along,  noting  the  straight,  ridgy  turn- 
pike town,  with  its  houses  of  brick,  limestone,  or  logs,  turned  side- 
wise  to  the  narrow  sidewalks,  and  in  the  distance  the  Blue  Ridge, 
or  South  Mountain,  rising  from  the  wooded  fosse  of  the  river  Shen- 
andoah. 

In  a  depression  of  Charlestown  stood  the  brick,  porticoed  court- 
house, opposite  a  tavern,  and  the  stone  -  and  -  brick  jail  opposite 
another  tavern,  and  diagonally  opposite  the  court-house.  At  these 
corners  was  all  the  semblance  of  militia  pomp — sentries,  guard- 
houses, officers  of  the  day,  colonels,  and  generals ;  orderly  sergeants 
riding,  self-important,  on  errands  of  mighty  insignificance ;  horses 
tied  to  racks,  and  warriors  bowing  and  scraping,  ogling  and  sus- 
pecting. There  was  apparently  some  Satanic  plot,  in  the  air  or  un- 
der ground,  to  bewizard  this  sturdy,  steady,  demi-German  popula- 
tion. 


248  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Rumors  of  coming  abolitionists  to  rescue  Brown  and  his  six 
men  were  of  daily  and  nightly  verification :  frenzied  people  came  in 
who  had  seen  marching  columns ;  from  the  house-tops  of  Charles- 
town  signal-lights  and  bale-fires  had  been  distinctly  noticed  ;  anony- 
mous letters  threatening  more  insurrections  came  through  the  post; 
the  United  States  Government  was  as  fully  suspended  here  as  if  Vir- 
ginia meant  to  cast  it  off ;  and  the  mails — those  nerves  of  healthy 
life  or  the  torturing  pins  of  political  neuralgia — were  manipulated, 
assorted,  and  controlled. 

Thus,  as  the  secret  of  a  murder,  extending  through  a  large  fam- 
ily connection,  discolors  the  world  to  them,  the  cry  of  the  unpaid 
laborers  rang  forever  in  the  ears  of  those  who  had  inherited  the  sys- 
tem, and  two  insurrections  in  one  whole  generation  had  been  met 
somewhat  as  if  expected — the  injury  was  felt  to  be  proportionate  to 
the  hazard  of  the  institution. 

Of  all  places  in  the  world,  except  Mount  Vernon,  here  was  the 
spot  to  point  the  lesson  of  John  Brown— the  family  settlement  of 
General  Washington's  younger  brethren,  who  had  crossed  the  South 
Mountain  barrier,  not  as  the  "  Knights  of  the  Golden  Horseshoe,"  but 
as  the  knights  of  shoeless  herds  of  slaves,  to  mix  this  degraded  labor 
with  the  old  German  tide  of  voluntary  labor,  from  Pennsylvania,  and 
up  the  long  valley,  between  the  mountain  parallels,  to  drive  the  dis- 
colored tide  till,  in  the  ignorant  white  race  of  the  far  Southwest  and 
the  hopeless  black  pee  there,  phosphatic  death  seemed  rich  for  the 
chemist  of  Revolution,  to  come,  with  his  burning  acids  and  hot  re- 
torts, and  manure  the  New  World  with  human  bones. 

The  streets  of  Charlestown  were  labeled  with  the  Washington 
family's  pretioms,  and  in  the  churchyard  there  lay  their  dead ;  and 
the  foremost  of  that  name,  which  King  George  had  put  a  bloody 
price  upon,  was  but  yesterday  the  captive  of  John  Brown,  the  abo- 
litionist, who  desired  to  exchange  him  for  "  a  nigger." 

Was  it  this  despair  of  pride,  in  a  system  as  fleeting  as  the  rob- 
ber's booty,  which  occasioned  all  this  military  pomp  }  Or  was  it  the 
self-deception  of  the  Pharisee,  which  exalted  to  self-respect,  and 
even  to  didactic  and  reasoning  retort,  the  dying  and  impenitent  thief 
beside  the  unfriended  martyr  } 

This  discrimination,  which  is  the  first  of  political  crimes,  is  also 
the  foundation  of  public  hypocrisy — the  classifying  of  men  from  the 
standard  of  one's  own  righteousness;  and  there  was  nothing  so 
righteous  in  its  own  esteem,  in  all  the  nineteenth  Christian  centur5% 


CHARLESTOWiV. 


249 


as  the  insulted  slavery  of  Virginia.  Like  Lucretia  of  old,  it  fain 
would  die,  in  this  instant  of  such  perfect  purity  as  to  have  become 
rapine's  victim. 

No  face  in  Charlestown  showed  this  expression  of  almost  antique 
and  fateful  yet  holy  reverie  like  John  Beall's,  whom  they  met  before 
the  principal  tav^ern,  and  whom  Quantrell  introduced  to  Mr.  Booth. 
His  settled  features,  straight  lines  of  brow  and  mouth,  and  reserved 
address,  were  those  of  a  man  against  whom,  alone,  the  whole  insult 
of  Brown's  raid  had  been  directed. 

He  accompanied  the  party  to  a  drinking-room,  but  would  not 
partake ;  and,  while  they  stood  there,  a  tall,  sHm  young  person, 
straight  as  an  Indian,  and  looking  straight  also  as  an  Indian's  arrow, 
walked  up  to  Mr.  Booth. 

"  May  I  speak  to  an  actor?  "  he  said.  "  I  recognize  you  as  Mr. 
Booth.  I  have  never  been  to  the  theatre  but  once  in  my  life,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  it.  It  would  be  such  a  pleasure  to  say,  when  I 
go  home  to  Florida,  that  I  shook  the  hand  of  the  son  of  the  great 
Booth,  who  must  be,  I  think,  a  greater  actor  than  his  father." 

"  No  offense,  my  young  friend,"  answered  Mr.  Booth.  "  What 
did  you  say  your  name  was  ?  " 

"  Powell.  I  came  to  Virginia,  sir,  to  attend  a  Baptist  school, 
and  be,  like  my  father,  a  preacher ;  but  I  like  excitement  a  little,  like 
all  the  boys,  and?  as  I  peeped  one  night  into  the  theatre,  and  heard 
your  grand — may  I  say,  sir,  your  majestic  acting  } — so,  also,  I  slipped 
off — with  the  money  that  was  to  do  for  me  all  next  term  at  school 
— to  see  the  great  John  Brown  raid.  I  won't  detain  you,  sir.  after  I 
have  expressed  my  great  appreciation  of  your  acting." 

"Oh,  take  a  drink  with  us,"  said  Booth;  "here  is  another 
preacher — Father  Fenwick.  He's  a  Catholic,  and  you're  a  Baptist 
— and  I'm  part  Jew.     So  we  can't  quarrel." 

The  respectable  elements  of  this  group  soon  found  each  other 
out ;  the  Baltimore  companions  of  Booth  had  been  so  attentive  to 
him  that  their  cause  of  interest  was  soon  manifest :  they  wanted  to 
borrow  money  to  meet  their  expenses  and  get  out  of  town.  Atze- 
rodt  and  little  Herold  struck  up  a  friendship,  and  went  off  together ; 
and  Mr.  Beall,  the  clerical  student  Fenwick,  and  Booth  and  Quan- 
trell accepted  an  invitation  to  visit  the  prisoners  in  their  cells. 

The  prison,  on  the  public  corner,  seemed  a  respectable  dwelling, 
with  an  extension  of  a  more  sinister  appearance  on  the  side  street. 
A  "  reception-room  "  was  within,  and  the  partly  open  door  thereof 


250  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

showed  a  boyish  lad  leaning  upon  his  elbow  at  the  window,  and  in- 
terrogated by  one  of  several  important-seeming  men. 

"  That  is  said  to  be  the  Democratic  Governor  of  Indiana,"  spoke 
Beall ;  "  the  boy  is  that  infernal  scoundrel  Cook,  his  brother-in-law. 
Gentlemen,  they  are  all  abolitionists,  or  the  same  family  would  not 
turn  out  two  kinds  of  professions." 

Ouantrell  saw  that  Cook's  face  had  the  bitterness  of  death  in  it. 

"John,"  the  Governor  was  speaking,  "  why  have  you  never  writ- 
ten to  your  sisters  in  these  two  years  }  " 

"  Ashbel,  events  too  exciting  had  occurred  to  me.  There  was 
nothing  to  write  that  you,  or  they,  could  have  felt  any  sympathy  for. 
I  had  been  forced  into  this  cause." 

"  John,  your  parents  never  brought  you  up  to  herd  yourself  with 
assassins." 

"  No,  Ashbel,  I  went  to  Kansas  to  practice  law.  As  I  crossed 
the  prairie  with  a  youthful  friend,  strange  horsemen  rode  up  to  us 
and  asked  us  what  State  we  hailed  from.  '  I^Iew  York,'  replied  my 
innocent  companion.  At  that,  the  challenger  shot  him  dead.  I  had 
my  rifle  with  me,  and,  as  the  cowards  rode  away,  I  emptied  two 
of  their  saddles.  For  that  a  price  was  set  upon  my  head,  and  I  was 
hunted  down,  and  I  found  John  Brown's  outlawed  camp  and  joined 
his  cause.  Love  came  to  me  in  my  lonely  and  dangerous  outpost 
at  Harper's  Ferry ;  like  you,  I  have  a  wife  and  son." 

He  broke  down  in  a  sob  which  touched  the  Governor's  heart. 
He  sprang  forward  and  cried  : 

"  John,  I  have  come  to  save  your  life.  I  will  stand  by  you.  But 
you  must  repudiate  these  ruffians  who  seduced  you  to  this  busi- 
ness." 

They  passed  along  and  entered  a  comfortable  cell.  John  Brown 
sat  at  a  little  table  reading  his  Bible  aloud  to  a  man  who  recHned 
upon  a  bed. 

The  old  woods-fighter  was  in  discolored  and  rag-rent  dress, 
having  been  too  consistent  to  accept  other  clothes  from  those  who 
lived  by  the  toil  of  slaves ;  his  wounds  were  healing,  but  his  scalp 
was  still  bandaged  up,  and  his  face  showed  bruises. 

The  other  man  on  the  bed  was  a  dreadful  object,  as  the  balls 
remained  in  his  head  and  body,  and  between  his  gashes  the  pallid 
streaks  of  health  were  like  the  white  stripes  in  the  American  flag. 

"  Captain  Brown,"  Quantrell  said,  "  here  is  a  young  priest  who 
takes  an  interest  in  you." 


CHARLESTOWN. 


251 


John  Brown  looked  up  at  Fenwick,  while  extending  his  hand  to 
Quantrell. 

"  Of  what  persuasion,  sir  ?  " 

"  Roman  Catholic.  You  would  not  reject  my  prayers  for  that, 
Captain  Brown  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.     But  do  you  believe  human  slavery  is  right  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,  captain." 

"  Then  you  are  a  priest  of  the  devil,  sir,  and  need  not  bestow 
your  prayers  on  me  !     Who  is  this  fine-appearing  young  man  }  " 

He  turned  from  Fenwick,  and  looked  up  at  Booth. 

"  That  is  an  actor,  the  son  of  the  great  tragedian,  Booth." 

"  An  actor .''  I  have  never  seen  a  play ;  life  was  too  serious  and 
engaged  with  me. — I  hope,  my  young  friend,  that  you  may  act  your 
part,  if  occasion  ever  calls  you  to  do  so,  with  reference  to  eternal 
things.  In  my  situation,  with  but  a  little  while  to  live,  it  is  my  only 
comfort  to  feel  that  none  of  the  poor  and  destitute  consider  me  their 
enemy.  Applause  I  have  none ;  I  am  but  little  understood ;  yet 
here" — he  touched  the  little  Bible — "I  do  not  find  my  condem- 
nation." 

Booth  looked  down  at  the  old  man  with  a  respect  which  had  no 
feeling  in  it,  but  he  said,  in  a  plausible  tone : 

"  Captain,  give  me  your  autograph.  Men  like  you  do  not  live 
every  day." 

There  was  no  paper,  and  Mr.  Beall  found  a  piece  of  a  letter  in 
his  pocket,  which  he  handed  to  Booth,  and  then  subsided  to  his 
pinched  brows  and  chin,  and  most  hopeless  face, 

John  Brown  took  up  the  pen,  and  slowly,  silently  wrote  : 

"  /,  yo/in  Brown,  am  now  qttite  certain  that  the  crimes  of  this 
gicilty  land  will  never  be  purged  away  but  with  blood.  I  had,  as 
I  now  think,  vainly  flattered  myself  that,  without  very  much 
bloodshed,  it  might  be  done." 

As  the  four  young  men  put  their  heads  together  to  read  this 
piece  of  writing,  a  resonant  voice  at  the  cell-door  spoke  in  a  slight 
German  accent : 

"  Captain,  your  dinner  is  ready  !    This  way.  sir !  " 

They  all  looked  up,  and  there  met  their  gaze  a  large,  black-eyed 
man,  with  a  tray  of  victuals. 

All  looked  down  again  but  Quantrell ;  he  stood,  staring  at  this 
coarsely  dressed  servant  in  open-mouthed  astonishment. 


252  KATY   OF   CATOCTIN. 

"  Where — ?  "  he  finally  spoke,  in  a  low  tone. 

The  man  raised  his  finger  to  his  lip,  and  looked  at  Quantrell 
with  the  intensest  meaning. 

"  I  know  you,  surely,"  Quantrell  said,  almost  breathless ;  "  you 
are — " 

"  Silence  !  "  whispered  the  man,  with  a  stately  motion,  far  above 
his  roughly  marked  face  and  ignoble  dress — "  silence,  by  your 
mother's  spirit !     Let  me  pass," 

John  Brown  took  this  person's  arm  and  hobbled  painfully  from 
the  cell. 

When  Quantrell  turned  again,  with  a  countenance  ghastly  in  its 
wonder,  he  found  Booth  and  the  nearly  helpless  fellow-prisoner  of 
Brown  conversing  strongly : 

"  Spiritualist,  are  you  .''  "  sounded  the  voice  of  Booth.  "  Well,  if 
I  had  you  to  do  with,  I  would  take  you  at  your  word,  and,  like  the 
witches  who  dealt  with  spirits  of  old,  I  would  burn  you  at  a  pile  of 
fagots  I " 

The  man,  shot  all  to  pieces,  but  cool  as  a  red  fall  apple  punct- 
ured by  the  wasps,  answered,  as  well  as  he  could  talk  : 

"  Kind  fellow  you  are !  Now,  if  I  were  to  meet  a  bad,  black 
eye  like  yours,  going  through  a  woods,  I  would  give  you  a 
broom !  " 

"  A  broom  ! "  said  Booth,  looking  puzzled  at  Stevens,  the  dis- 
abled captive  ;  "  what  would  I  want  with  a  broom  ?  " 

"To  get  a-straddle  of  it,"  concluded  Stevens,  "like  the  witches 
you  ride  with,  and  go  to  hell !  " 

At  these  invincible  sounds  the  young  priest,  Fenwick,  crossed 
himself  hastily,  while  Booth  and  Beall  looked  down  at  Stevens  with 
strong  hate. 

"  Keep  out  of  such  company,  my  boy,"  Stevens  remarked  to 
Quantrell ;  "  they  have  no  progress  in  them." 

"  Progress — what  is  that .''  " 

"  Heaven  is  nothing  but  progress,"  Stevens  said  ;  "  my  educa- 
tion was  nothing:  don't  you  suppose  heaven  will  be  a  school  to 
me .'  The  spirits  of  my  love  will  be  around  my  desk ;  old  angel 
friends  will  teach  me  music ;  I  shall  read,  and  know,  and  progress 
onward.  That's  my  belief.  My  sweetheart  left  it  to  me  when  she 
passed  away." 

As  they  left  the  jail,  Quantrell  asked  the  kind-eyed  jailer : 

"  Who  serves  the  meals  to  Captain  Brown  ?  " 


OATH-PLIGHT  AND    TROTH-PLIGHT. 


253 


"  An  old  Dutch  baker  out  in  the  town  ;  he  sends  the  captain's 
meals  in  by  his  people." 

Lloyd  Ouantrell  was  silent.  He  knew,  however,  that  the  person 
with  the  tray  of  victuals  he  had  seen  in  the  jail  was  either  Hannah 
Ritner  or  her  ghost. 

He  hastened  to  the  baker's  house,  on  a  back  street ;  they  knew 
nothing  of  any  person  answering  to  the  name,  or  description,  or  dis- 
guise, of  Hannah  Ritner. 

Katy's  ring  was  lost  again  :  would  she  ever  find  it  by  "  search- 
ing for  it  down  a  brook  "  } 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

OATH-PLIGHT  AND   TROTH-PLIGHT. 

At  the  south  end  of  Charlestown  a  small  limestone  brook  re- 
lieved the  sunny  situation  and  watered  some  Virginia  lawns,  and 
near  its  turnpike  bridge  and  ford  was  a  mill  and  tanner)-,  agreeable 
to  the  sight  and  smell,  with  the  dripping  water-wheel  and  the  cord- 
piled  bark.  Here,  wandering  together,  Quantrell  and  his  three  com- 
panions came  upon  a  large  wagon,  and  in  it  were  Luther  and  Katy 
Bosler,  and  Nelly  Harbaugh. 

Lloyd  rushed  upon  the  party,  and  his  later  friends  were  surprised 
to  see  him  not  only  kiss  the  slight,  childish,  large-eyed  lass,  but  also 
kiss  her  sluggish-eyed,  bovine-moving  brother. 
"  Dear  Katy,  where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 
Luther  answered,  as  Katy  sprang  again  to  Lloyd's  arms  : 
"  Lloyd,  we  are  huckstering  a  little.     Te  rules  is  against  coming 
to  Harper's  Ferry  from  Maryland,  so  we  cross  te  pridge  at  Berlin 
and  cross  te  mountain  at  Keyes's  Ferry,  and  we  sell  to  te  soldiers 
here." 

"  Breaking  the  laws,  bruder  ?    And  you  a  minister ! " 
'■  Such  laws  as  Fergeenia  has  on  this  occasion,"  replied  Luther, 
dr}'ly,  "  are  te  laws  of  insanity.     Tere  is  no  tariff  petween  te  States 
of  our  Union,  and  I  am  an  American  citizen.    If  Fergeenia  had  pet- 
ter  laws,  John  Brown  could  have  stayed  at  home." 

"  What,  sir ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Beall.  "  Is  this  your  return  for 
Virginia  hospitality  ?  " 

"  I  am  feeding  Fergeenia,  I  think,"  replied  Luther,  plainly.   "  Tere- 


254 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN: 


fore,  I  am  not  guilty  of  any  inhospitality.  What  one  thinks,  he  is  re- 
sponsible to  himself  and  his  Maker  for." 

"There  are  things  thought,"  exclaimed  Booth,  sternly,  "  which 
are  worse  than  bold  crimes." 

"  Assuredly,"  answered  Luther,  "  and  that  is  why  I  have  no  tis- 
guises.  I  do  not  come  here  and  agree  with  everj^pody  and  pe  a 
spy.  I  say  te  man  who  is  in  te  jail,  to-day,  is  truer  to  justice  than 
te  judge  upon  te  bench  !  Te  plood  he  shed  I  do  not  approve  of — 
put  we,  Lloyd,  haf  seen  innocent  plood  shed  too.  Remember  te  old 
daddy  on  te  mountain,  dying  to  get  to  freedom — " 

"O  Lloyd,"  cried  Katy,  "your  fader  has  pought  Ashby,  and 
we've  prought  him  to  Charlestown  ;  he's  in  a  Tunker  family's  house, 
close  py !  " 

"  And  here's  a  letter  from  your  father,  Lloyd,"  Nelly  Harbaugh 
cried,  returning  a  most  respectful  and  admiring  look  Mr.  Booth 
gave  her.     "  We  expected  to  find  you,  before  long." 

As  Lloyd  read  the  letter.  Booth  engaged  Nelly  Harbaugh  in  con- 
versation, and  Hugh  Fenwick,  the  semi-fledged  priest,  talked,  with 
deference,  to  Katy  Bosler ;  while  Mr.  Beall  interrogated  Luther  Bos- 
ler  in  his  intense,  unrelieved  way,  and  with  a  fierceness  his  low  tones 
just  concealed.     The  letter  said  : 

"  My  son,  I  have  bought  you  another  slave  at  your  request.  I 
present  him  to  you,  according  to  such  law  as  there  is  for  property 
in  our  fellow-kind.  Your  own  money  I  keep  for  you.  The  cube  of 
human  bondage  is  Golgotha.  Find  that  word  in  your  dictionary, 
and  don't  forget  it !  I  sincerely  hope  John  Brown  will  be  hanged — 
as  he  is  too  valuable  to  live — like  the  prize  steer.  To  spare  his  life 
would  give  Virginia  another  generation  to  patronize  this  Union.  I 
hear  that  you  are  enlisted  among  the  cavalier  train-bands ;  I  ex- 
pected as  much  from  you,  my  son,  and  I  would  rather  see  you  walk 
promptly  to  your  place,  in  the  files  of  slavery  and  disunion,  than  to 
remain  of  an  uncertain  mind.  The  quicker  every  arms-bearing  man 
is  resolved,  the  speedier  will  be  the  issue.  The  request  I  make  of 
you  is,  not  to  bestow  your  heart  anywhere  at  present ;  and,  as  for 
your  hand,  remember  that  your  mother's  pride  of  family  was  her 
only  sin.  Your  father,  Abel  Quantrell." 

When  Lloyd,  with  feelings  of  affection,  anger,  and  distress,  folded 
this  letter,  he  was  drawn  to  Luther  Bosler's  side,  and  to  Mr.  Beall, 
browbeating  Luther.     The  words  he  heard  were  : 


OATH-PLIGHT  AND    TROTH-PLIGHT. 


255 


"  I  can  have  you  whipped,  and  drummed  across  the  river,  for  the 
sentiments  you  express  !  " 

"  Do  so.  Us  Tunker  brethren  are  numerous  in  this  valley.  They 
have  never  aroused  to  the  voice  of  conscience  upon  this  subject. 
Perhaps  they  might,  if  you  would  whip  one  of  their  ministers,  like  a 
slave." 

Luther's  countenance,  as  he  spoke  calmly  before  the  pinched, 
pallid,  and  tortured  arrogance  of  the  Anglo-Celt,  bore  no  ill  resem- 
blance to  one  of  the  rougher  Christian  disciples  under  the  whip- 
master. 

"  Stop  them  !  "  commanded  Nelly  Harbaugh  to  Booth  ;  "  Luther 
is  my  friend,  and  shall  not  be  imposed  upon  by  that  man." 

"For  you  I  will  interfere,"  answered  Booth  ;  "your  friend  must 
be  a  gentleman." 

By  the  aid  of  Fenwick,  who  saw  Katy's  anxiety.  Booth  and 
Ouantrell  appeased  the  combatants,  and  they  went  to  see  the  negro 
Ashby,  whose  unfortunate  arrival  had  given  Ouantrell  a  new  subject 
of  annoyance. 

He  was  at  a  Dunker  family's  humble  house  on  an  unfrequented 
cross-street,  and,  as  they  entered,  an  officer  came  close  after  to  the 
door,  to  arrest  a  negro  suspected  of  having  voluntarily  given  aid  to 
John  Brown,  and  borne  arms  under  him,  and  accused  also  of  invad- 
ing the  State  of  Virginia  to  carry  off  a  person  held  to  ceaseless  servi- 
tude— to  wit,  the  author  of  his  own  being.  The  penalty  for  the  first 
of  these  offenses  was  death ;  of  the  second,  imprisonment  for  life. 
The  negro  Ashby,  sustained  by  his  religious  ecstasy,  heard  of  the 
fate  awaiting  him  with  a  dignity  surprising  to  Lloyd  Quantrell. 

"  Mosster,"  he  said  to  Lloyd,  "  I'm  yours,  and  I  don't  want  you 
to  lose  the  money  I'm  bought  with ;  but  I'm  tired  of  life.  My  ole 
mommy  died  when  she  heard  of  daddy's  end.  I  wants  to  go  in  de 
cell  with  Green  and  Copeland  and  be  hanged,  and  go  to  glory ! " 

"  He  ought  to  be  hanged  !  "  spoke  Beall,  with  smothered  fire  cf 
indignation.     "  He  confesses  to  bearing  arms." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Katy  Bosler,  "  hard  man  !  He  saved  my  dear  Lloyd's 
life.  When  you  come  to  die,  maype  a  black  man's  love  may  pe 
your  only  friend  !  " 

"Mr.  Booth,"  cried  Nelly  Harbaugh,  "you  go  to  the  door  and 
deceive  the  constable,  while  Lloyd  gets  the  negro  off. — He's  worth 
all  you  paid  for  him,  Lloyd  ;  and,  if  he's  hanged,  the  law  won't  pay 
you." 


256  KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 

"You  shall  be  obeyed,"  answered  Booth  ;  "  if  the  constable  per- 
sists, I'll  throw  him  out  of  the  house,  and  my  Richmond  company 
will  stand  by  me  !  " 

Quantrell  started  with  the  negro  through  the  back  garden,  and 
led  him  by  the  winding  creek  to  the  railway,  and  on  toward  the 
north ;  and,  meantime,  Katy  Bosler  threw  herself  upon  Mr.  John 
Beall,  and  by  sighs  and  entreaties  prevailed  upon  his  modesty,  until 
Booth  came  in  and  reported  the  officer  to  have  been  thrown  off  the 
scent.  Luther  Bosler  had  gone  off  to  attend  to  his  market  collec- 
tions, and  Mr.  Booth,  seeing  Mr.  Beall's  predicament  with  Katy, 
claimed  a  kiss  for  his  good  offices  also,  which  Katy  called  on  Nelly 
Harbaugh  to  bestow.  In  a  little  while  Beall's  sense  of  Virginia  hos- 
pitality overcame  his  severity,  and  he  took  a  gentle  interest  in  Katy, 
whose  merciful  nature  had  also  greatly  affected  "  Father "  Hugh 
Fenwick. 

Nelly  Harbaugh,  with  a  strong  interest  in  these  young  worldly 
men,  influenced  Katy  to  prevail  over  Luther  and  let  them  both  re- 
main in  Charlestown  till  his  return  with  another  load  of  provisions. 

Luther's  merchant  instincts  were  now  fully  aroused,  in  view  of 
this  unexpected  home-market  and  the  calls  of  his  approaching  mar- 
ried life,  and  he  kissed  his  affianced  good-by  and  started  toward 
Harper's  Ferry,  with  Beall  and  Booth  in  his  wagon. 

Lloyd  and  his  new  slave  had  walked  two  or  three  miles,  and  then 
they  left  the  railroad  near  a  mill,  and  continued  through  the  autumn 
fields,  Lloyd  meditating  ho\V  to  get  his  dependent  across  the  Poto- 
mac into  Maryland.  They  finally  came  in  sight  of  a  peculiarly- 
shaped  brick  house  in  a  grove  of  trees,  secluded  from  the  sur- 
rounding farms,  but  from  its  limestone  swells  could  be  seen  the 
broad  gatevv-ay  of  the  rivers  at  Harper's  Ferry,  as  they  broke  the 
mountain  ramparts  through. 

" '  Wide  is  the  gate  and  broad  is  the  way  that  leadeth  to  de- 
struction," Quantrell  said  ;  "  and  yonder  it  seems  to  be." 

"  Dis  is  Walnut  Grove,  mosster,"  spoke  Ashby,  out  of  his  deso- 
late meditations,  pointing  to  the  house  with  the  blood-red  end  and 
the  cool  white  piazzas  suspended  in  the  middle ;  "  de  Bealls  lives 
yer." 

"Who  are  these  Bealls,"  asked  Lloyd —"  so  serious  and  in- 
tense .'' " 

"  I've  heerd,"  replied  the  negro,  "dat  de  first  of  dem  was  a  ole 
Scotch  Covenanter,  who  come  to  America  after  killing  a  archbishop 


OATH-FLIGHT  AND    TROTH-PLIGHT. 


^b7 


in  Scotland — wasn't  his  name  Sharp  ?  He  was  a-tr)'in'  to  make  de 
Scotch  somethin'  else  dan  Presbyterians.  A  few  of  'em  caught  him 
at  a  bridge,  and  dragged  him  out  of  his  carriage  and  murdered  him. 
So  de  first  Beall  run  away  to  de  Potomac ;  he  was  one  of  de  red 
Macgregors,  dat  is  called  in  Merrylin  Macgruders.  Ever  sence  dar's 
been  on  deir  faces  a  white  look,  an'  a  borrowin'  of  trouble,  an'  ex- 
citement about  blood." 

Ashby  was  bestowed  in  an  out-house  by  a  colored  domestic 
girl,  and,  before  Lloyd  could  call  out  the  family,  Beall  and  Booth 
drove  up  with  Luther  Bosler.  The  latter  went  to  feed  his  horses, 
and  Ouantrell  and  the  other  two  went  into  the  house  to  partake  of 
some  liquor. 

"  Here  is  some  of  grandfather's  port  wine,"  Beall  said  ;  "  he  was 
the  grandson  of  a  baronet ;  I  was  his  favorite  among  his  daughter's 
children,  and  he  gave  me  his  name,  John  Yates.  To-day  I  feel 
troubled  and  excited,  and  I  will  try  a  glass  with  you,  friends." 

"  You  have  behaved  like  a  knight,"  Booth  cried.  "  Let  us  drink 
together  to  some  toast  with  a  great  purpose  m  it.  What  shall  it 
be  }  " 

"  Virginia  hospitality,"  Quantrell  said.  "  Against  his  princi- 
ples, Mr.  Beall  helped  me  in  my  personal  desire  to  save  my  negro's 
life,  because  he  had  saved  my  own.     I  shall  never  forget  it." 

"  I  accuse  myself,"  said  Beall,  "  of  incivility  in  granting  you  so 
grudgingly  what  my  natural  impulses  would  have  freely  given. 
You  were  right  to  reward  this  disobedient  servant  for  your  life. — 
Gentlemen,  I  have  taken  a  real  affection  for  you  both ;  but  the 
occurrence  of  this  abolition  invasion  has  strangely  aroused  me.  Do 
you  know  that  with  all  the  hate  I  hold  for  this  man,  Brown,  I  have 
an  admiration  for  him  I  can  not  control }  " 

"  I  admit  it,  too,"  Booth  cried,  unsteadily,  for  he  had  been  drink- 
ing too  much.  "  Monster  as  he  is,  I  am  fascinated  by  his  dramatic 
crime." 

"  It  was  what  we  Scotch — we  Bealls — call  '  the  bloody  or  deadly 
foray.'  When  one  of  these  is  made  against  us,  we  try  in  vain  not 
to  revenge  it.     My  blood  tingles  now  to  take  life  for  life." 

He  spoke  with  suppressed  tones,  jerkingly,  and  not  a  ray  of 
cheerfulness  was  in  his  soul. 

"  Poor,  insulted  Virginia  !  "  Booth  exclaimed.  "  Lloyd,  don't  you 
feel  for  John  here  ?  It  has  bitterly  humiliated  him.  Let  us  dnnk 
to  this  sentiment  and  swear  to  it,  also — we  three  young  men,  nearly 


258 


KATY   OF   CATOCTIN. 


of  the  same  age,  devoted,  determined,  brave  :  '  The  South,  if  trouble 
ever  comes  upon  her,  to  revenge  her ;  Virginia,  if  occasion  ever 
offers,  to  invade  her  invaders  ! '  " 

They  raised  their  glasses — those  three,  the  two  Marj'landers  and 
the  Virginian.  Said  Quantrell,  "My  father  has  written  to  me, 
'Walk  promptly  to  your  place,  and  do  not  be  of  an  uncertain 
mind.' " 

"  Drink  and  swear  !  "  spoke  Booth ;  " '  Sic  semper  lyramiis! ' — 
Virginia  shall  be  avenged  !  " 

As  they  drank  with  strong  feeling,  Luther  Bosler  appeared  in 
the  door. 

"  Resolutions  taken  in  wine,"  he  slowly  remarked,  "  had  best  pe 
carefully  considered.     Lloyd,  I  will  carry  you  to  the  cars  at  Berlin." 

All  present  judged  it  prudent  for  Quantrell  to  go,  while  he  could 
get  the  negro  off  and  be  himself  unsuspected. 

As  he  disappeared  in  Luther's  wagon,  Mr.  Beall  said: 

"  I  think  Quantrell  is  a  man  of  principle.  I  have  seen  how 
brave  he  is.     Can  he  mean  to  marry  that  pretty  Dutch  child .''  " 

"  If  he  loves  her,  it  is  his  own  pleasure  to  consult." 

"  But  she  is  quite  ignorant ;  and  that  brother  of  hers  is  a  huck- 
stering Hessian." 

"  I  have  known  Lloyd  Quantrell  since  his  childhood,"  Booth 
added ;  "  my  father,  the  tragedian,  and  my  grandfather,  who  was 
an  Englishman,  like  yours,  were  both  present  when  Abel  Quantrell 
came  over  from  Pennsylvania  to  be  admitted  to  the  bar  of  my 
native  county.  They  sat  up  all  night  at  Belair  to  play  cards. 
Years  afterward,  the  father,  who  is  a  great  man,  but  a  voluptuous 
one,  with  remarkable  power  over  women,  became  the  idol  of  a  lady 
of  both  fortune  and  descent,  of  one  of  the  best  families  we  have  in 
older  Maryland,  and  originally  Quakers.  Lloyd's  father  was  a  Yan- 
kee, with  some  Irish  stock  in  him,  making  him  poet  and  intriguer  as 
well  as  Puritan  ;  and  that  Quaker  sweetness  often  breaks  out  in 
Lloyd's  rough  nature.  It  is  said  that  Abel  Quantrell  never  loved 
either  his  wife  or  his  son,  up  to  their  warmth  of  affection  for  him. 
If  the  old  man  crosses  Lloyd's  love-affair,  Lloyd  may  let  the  girl  go, 
for  he  reveres  his  father." 

"  And  break  her  heart  ?  "  asked  Beall.     "  That  won't  be  right." 

"  Why,  John,  you  are  very  innocent  of  things  of  gallantry.  Men's 
hearts  sometimes  break  in  love ;  women  have  little  willful  hearts, 
and  adapt  themselves  to  situations." 


OATH-rLIGIIT  AND   rKOTii-ruGiir.  259 

"We  do  not  believe  that  of  our  mothers,"  said  Beall ;  "  as  far  as 
we  can  see,  love  is  the  whole  of  life  to  them." 

Booth  hesitated. 

"  You  are  right,  John.  But  we  do  not  see  women — at  least  not 
in  my  way  of  livelihood — like  our  mothers.".  .  . 

Next  day  Lloyd  Ouantrell  entered  his  father's  house  in  Balti- 
more. It  stood  in  Old  Town,  as  that  part  of  the  city  to  the  north- 
east was  called,  across  the  tumbling  Jones's  Falls,  and  as  he  ap- 
proached it  he  passed  the  residence  of  the  Booth  family  in  the  same 
part  of  the  city — a  broad,  brick  dwelling  with  marble  base. 

Quiet  and  comfort  were  the  expression  of  this  semi-neglected 
part  of  Baltimore,  once  the  seat  of  fashion.  The  dwelling  of  Abel 
Quantrell  had  been  the  town-house  of  his  wife's  old  colonial  family, 
whose  frequent  relations  with  politics  and  finance  brought  them  to 
Baltimore  from  across  the  bay,  to  live  a  portion  of  the  year,  and 
here,  dazzled  with  the  eloquence  and  independent  nature  of  Lloyd's 
father,  the  heiress  naturalized  him  into  Maryland  by  a  marriage, 
but  found  him  half  an  alien  to  her  heart. 

The  same  longing  with  which  she  died,  to  have  the  full  and  ab- 
solute love  of  her  husband,  her  athletic  son  had  inherited  ;  and  now 
he  came  hungry  to  his  father's  door  for  a  father's  love,  after  all  the 
mighty  experiences  of  Harper's  Ferry. 

After  he  had  bestowed  the  slave,  Ouantrell  approached  his 
father's  library,  and  heard  men's  voices  within.  The  first  voice 
thrilled  him  well ;  it  was  that  of  the  new  Western  senator,  Edgar 
Pittson,  saying: 

"  Depend  upon  it,  they  will  force  their  convention  early,  and  con- 
tinue the  excitement  at  Charlestown,  Virginia,  until  the  Southern 
heart  comes  all  fired  with  passion  to  that  convention,  and  they  will 
hold  it  at  Charleston  in  South  Carolina.  They  will  there  demand  a 
Southern  presidential  candidate  as  security  for  slaver}%  and  break 
up  the  convention  rather  than  take  a  Western  man  ;  and  after  having 
left  everything  in  suspense,  they  will  convene  again  in  Baltimore,  to 
capture  this  State  by  the  alternative  threat  of  breaking  up  the  Union. 
Can  Maryland  be  relied  upon,  Mr.  Davis  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  a  musical  yet  nervous  voice,  like  a  bass-violin's; 
"  although  the  Native-American  cause  is  gone,  it  will  answer  still  in 
Maryland  to  compel  the  Democracy  here  to  profess  a  Union  spirit. 
This  night  we  show  our  power  in  Monument  Square.  Come,  and 
you  will  see  how  soiled  is  the  outer  fringe  of  slavery's  garment.     I 


26o  KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 

must  use  the  rowdy  to  save  Baltimore  to  the  Union ;  for  Baltimore 
is  Maryland." 

"  Anything.  Davis,"  said  the  voice  of  Abel  Quantrell.  "  Sho  !  use 
anything  to  keep  the  deluge  back.  The  cube  of  the  cut-throat  may 
be  the  military  genius,  though  I  doubt  it.  The  square  of  a  riot  may 
be  a  battle  for  the  Union,  though  I  fear  not.  But  you  are  all  there 
is  of  Maryland  until  the  north  star  moves  over  Baltimore,  and  then 
you  may  throw  off  your  dark-lantern  mask  and  show  the  Know- 
nothing  to  be  the  Emancipator  !  " 

"  I  am  consuming  for  the  hour,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  in  low,  deep 
tones  ;  "  I  saw  no  way  to  keep  back  the  Loco-foco  power  in  Balti- 
more but  by  catering  to  this  Native-American  prejudice.  The  nat- 
uralized foreigners  always  joined  the  Democracy,  and  for  that  I  hated 
them.  The  devil  shall  have  Mai7land  and  me,  before  we  shall  be 
Democratic  prey ! " 

"  I  sympathize  with  you,  Mr.  Davis,"  spoke  Edgar  Pittson ; 
"  your  virtues  are  too  great  to  classify  you  as  the  Artevelde  of  all 
these  rough  guilds  and  clubs ;  but  the  time  is  a  shifting  one,  and 
we  need  all  the  ground  we  can  get  to  stand  on.  We  shall  nominate 
early,  also — not  later  than  next  May — and  our  candidate,  I  think, 
will  be  Lincoln." 

"  Oh,  no — Seward  !  " 

"  Sho  !  "  said  Abel  Quantrell ;  "  put  not  your  new  wine  in  old 
bottles  ;  Seward  has  been  too  long  in  honors  and  office,  Henry  ;  he 
lives  too  far  East.  Go  to  the  West,  where  John  Brown  lived  and 
thought  so  long  and  undauntedly,  until  his  old  teeth  fell  out  and 
grew  up  armed  boys.  The  cube  of  old  political  success  is  compro- 
mise. We  have  had  one  Fillmore.  I  wish  we  could  run  Henry 
Winter  Davis — or  John  Brown." 

"  Or  Abel  Quantrell,"  added  Mr.  Davis.  "  Old  friend,  you  have 
been  a  great  comfort  to  me  in  my  lonely  battle  here,  made  under 
my  semi-false  position.  Your  son  has  been  my  devoted  follow- 
er." 

"My  son,"  spoke  Abel  Quantrell;  "what  pride  I  take  in  my 
son  !  How  brave  he  is — how  indifferent  to  the  world  ;  how  well  he 
honors  his  father  and  his  mother  !  Surely  his  days  shall  be  long  in 
the  land  which  the  Lord,  the  God  of  Freedom,  will  yet  give  to  him. 
Oh,  let  me  hear  the  sounding  of  his  voice,  like  Isaac  waiting  for  his 
Esau's  tones  !  " 

"  Father,  I  am  safe  :  God  bless  you,  sir  !  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  cried, 


KNOW-NOTHINGS.  26 1 

his  eyes  all  blind  with  tears  as  he  threw  himself  at  his  father's 
feet. 

Abel  Quantrell,  moved  somewhat  by  the  sudden  onset,  put  his 
hands  upon  Lloyd's  head,  mechanically  and  coldly. 

"  The  hair  is  the  hair  of  Esau,"  he  said,  "  but  the  voice  is  the 
voice  of  Jacob." 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

KNOW-NOTHINGS, 

"  Father,  don't  treat  me  so.  I  have  been  in  great  troubles,  and 
the  hope  of  seeing  you,  sir,  made  me  want  hard  to  live.  I  do  want 
to  lead  a  better  life,  and  I  have  found  a  pure  young  woman  who  has 
promised  to  be  my  wife ;  and  both  of  us  require  a  father's  blessing. 
Give  me  your  heart,  father  I " 

"  Sho,  sho ! "  the  old  man  said,  looking  a  little  moved  at  his  son  ; 
"  the  square  of  love  is  marriage ;  and  the  cube  of  love  and  marriage 
is  incompatibility.  Cube  it — cube  it !  Look  into  the  third  produc- 
tion, son  !  You  love :  well  enough  !  You  marry :  desperate  step  ! 
You  live  long  together :  the  cube  is  not  one  flesh,  but  wood  or 
stone." 

"  I  am  your  son ;  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  that,"  Lloyd  spoke, 
looking  around  at  the  other  witnesses,  in  wounded  pride  and  chal- 
lenge. 

"  None,  Lloyd,"  spoke  the  kind  tones  of  Senator  Edgar  Pittson  ; 
"  your  father  called  you  his  Jacob,  the  father  of  all  true  Israel's  race. 
He  did  not  mean  to  accuse  you." 

"  If  he  had  called  me  Esau,"  faltered  the  young  man,  "  his  words 
would  not  have  seemed  so  cold.  Some  way,  I  can  not  get  father  to 
love  me,  gentlemen.     I  know  I  have  taken  to  sad  companions — " 

"  Have  I  ever  rebuked  you,  my  son  ?     Sho  !  " 

"  No,  sir.  Why  have  you  not  ?  It  was  a  father's  privilege  ;  and, 
had  you  done  so,  it  would  have  been  a  proof  of  your  affection  for 
me.  I  wandered  away  because  you  never  restrained  me.  It  was 
too  plain  that  you  had  no  interest  in  me,  father." 

"  Come,  Lloyd  !  "  spoke  Congressman  Davis,  a  Httle  exasperated 
at  the  son's  accusations.  "  Your  father  is  as  just  as  Heaven's  vice- 
roy here ;  and  you  know  it." 


262  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  I  wish  he  were  not  so  just,"  the  young  man  sobbed,  with  one 
long,  soul-drawn  sob ;  "  then  he  might  err  into  loving  me,  who  have 
no  mother  !  " 

"  Dear  Lloyd  !  "  the  voice  of  Mr.  Pittson  said,  with  tender  emotion 
in  it — "  to  be  motherless  is  the  worst.  My  rugged,  gentle  brother, 
look  out  on  Nature  like  your  father,  and  take  joy  in  her  ceaseless 
maternities.     There  are  love  and  grief  and  separation  everywhere." 

"  Oh,  if  my  mother  was  here  now,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  spoke,  "  she 
would  have  encouraged  me  in  my  first  pure  affection  since  she 
died  ! " 

"  So  will  I,  my  son  ! "  Abel  Quantrell  reflected  aloud,  with  some 
curious  sympathy,  "  Let  me  walk  leaning  upon  your  shoulder,  for 
my  old  club-foot  is  numb.  Come  Edgar,  too  ;  since  you  young  men 
have  met,  and  liked  each  other  so,  I'll  lean  upon  you  both." 

He  stood  upon  his  staff,  and  threw  an  arm  around  the  shoulders 
of  each,  and  paced  the  room  to  and  fro.  Henry  Winter  Davis,  with 
his  fine  intellectual  sight  and  handsome  profile,  looked  up  approv- 
ingly. 

"  I  lean  on  Law  and  Nature,  like  Bacon  of  old,"  came  the  sar- 
donic voice  of  the  old  man  out  of  his  lifeless  countenance ;  "  the 
support  is  all  human  aspiration  can  find  ;  but  where,  my  God !  is 
Liberty  ?  " 

"  Here,"  answered  the  young  Senator  Pittson,  whose  face  was 
like  that  of  Liberty's  self  upon  a  silver  dollar,  not  warm  with  color 
but  fine  with  ore — "  here  are  'three  of  us,  and  you  can  cube  yourself ! 
Do  not  regret,  but  feel  God's  providence  to  be  wider  than  all  the 
casualties  and  refractions  of  man's  nature,  and  taking  every  aber- 
ration into  his  illimitable  system  of  systems !  You  may  have  been 
the  roving  comet,  crossing  the  orbits  of  the  purest  stars,  or  the  rash 
meteorite  flung  upon  Pleiades  or  earth ;  and  still  the  scar  on  you  will 
be  greater  than  upon  them,  while  in  them  the  wonder  of  your  falling 
is  their  incentive  to  a  higher  and  wiser  piety.  We  know  God  made 
you  in  his  most  subtile  alembic,  and  that  the  material  was  better 
than  gold  ;  for  we  feel  philanthropy  and  resistance  to  oppression  to 
warm  your  setting  sun  and  flash  in  the  ashes  of  your  lonely  hearth- 
stone, like  the  dying  prophet's  face  kindling  in  the  radiance  of  the 
promised  land." 

Lloyd  felt  so  rejoiced  at  this  eloquent  tribute  to  his  father  that 
he  kissed  both  the  speaker  and  Abel  Quantrell.  Mr.  Davis  was  also 
showing  the  sympathy  of  fellow-genius  upon  his  usually  abstracted 


KNO  W-NO  THINGS.  263 

face,  to  hear  the  nearly  chiseled  words  of  Senator  Pittson  rising  into 
such  sculptured  forms,  yet  ardent  as  life  itself. 

"  Sho,  Lloyd  !  "  Abel  Quantrell  cried,  "  you  have  learned  man- 
kissing  among  the  Dunkers  —  woman-kissing  as  well,  I  compute. 
That's  where  I  learned  it,  too,  beneath  the  Dunker  caps.  Like 
father,  like  son  !  But  you  never  imitate  my  better  examples,  Lloyd. 
I  dare  say  you  hate  old  John  Brown,  and  the  torch  of  insurrection  he 
waved." 

"  I  hate  his  cause  with  all  my  soul !  I  admire  his  courage. 
Wicked  people  set  him  on." 

Abel  Quantrell  took  one  hand  off  Lloyd's  shoulder,  and,  reach- 
ing for  his  stick,  leaned  only  upon  that,  and  upon  Mr.  Pittson. 

"  Edgar,"  said  he.  "  resent  that  statement.  I  expect  you  to 
do  it." 

"  No,  sir  " — Mr.  Pittson  took  Lloyd's  hand  and  continued  to  lead 
him  in  their  chamber  excursion — "  Lloyd  spoke  with  perfect  hon- 
esty. Remember  that  your  son  may  have  the  indignations  of  his 
birthplace,  as  you  brought  here  others  from  the  free  Green  Mount- 
ains. The  incursion  of  John  Brown  was  supported  by  no  law  what- 
ever, except  that  which  he  and  a  few  others  made  out  of  air.  Time 
may  excuse  him  ;  fanatical  partisanship  is  preparing  to  do  so  now  : 
but  I  am  a  senator  under  the  law,  and  can  take  no  part  in  such  a  re- 
bellion, though  it  may  have  started,  like  Satan's,  in  heaven  !  I  do 
not  say  all  were  wicked  people  who  advised  John  Brown,  but  I  do 
say  that  the  calm  and  legal  steps  we  Republicans  were  taking,  to 
mancEuvre  slavery  away  from  its  respectable  supports,  have  been 
pestered  by  John  Brown's  incursion,  so  that  we  are  being  manoeuvred 
by  slavery  away  from  our  own  strong  base,  in  the  outraged  conserva- 
tism of  the  country.  How  will  John  Brown's  raid  compensate  us 
for  the  wrongs  of  Kansas  }  At  this  moment  Mason,  Davis,  Bright, 
and  others  in  the  Senate,  are  preparing  for  an  investigating  commit- 
tee upon  John  Brown's  self-commissioned  and  gratuitous  act,  with 
the  purpose  of  destroying  the  Republican  party." 

"  They  can't  do  it,"  Mr.  Davis  remarked,  rising  up.  "  The  more 
stirring  up  the  slavery-Democracy  makes,  the  more  Republicans 
there  will  be." 

"  Mr.  Davis,"  spoke  Lloyd  Quantrell,  with  modesty  yet  direct- 
ness— "  often  have  I  listened  to  your  burning  speeches  with  the  feel- 
ing that  you  were  sincere  as  truth  itself.  I  never  knew  that  the 
Native-American  mask  covered  a  Black  RepubUcan  ! " 


264 


KATY  OF  CATOCrnV. 


"  Then  learn  it  of  me  " — Mr.  Davis  turned  imperiously  on  Lloyd 
— "  that  I  would  rather  wear  the  mask  of  the  devil  than  lose  my  hold 
on  Maryland,  to  help  the  Roger  Taney  Democracy  to  power  !  Yes,  I 
would  rather  defend  old  Brown  himself,  for  invading  my  own  late 
home,  Virginia,  and  support  Horace  Greeley  for  President  here  in 
Baltimore." 

The  impetuosity  of  Mr.  Davis's  reply  showed  that  he  had  drunk 
at  the  well  of  Abel  Ouantrell's  deep  but  boiling  temperament.  He 
was  a  Baltimorean  in  all  respects — of  well-nursed  mustache,  skin 
where  the  bright  and  sallow,  the  sanguine  and  bilious  contended ; 
aristocratic  lines  of  countenance,  a  little  pointed,  perhaps  hardened, 
by  impulses  which  had  turned  to  prejudices,  and  party  combats 
which  had  soured  to  hate,  and  by  a  certain  bluntness  somewhere 
between  volatility  and  suUenness  ;  but,  when  his  nature  rose,  a  spirit 
of  power  and  magnificence  possessed  him  like  the  dark  and  gold  of 
the  oriole  bird,  whose  yellow  wings  of  flight  flash  from  a  sable 
breast. 

Time  and  faculty,  resistance  and  a  somewhat  false  position,  had 
muddied  the  springs  of  a  generous  nature,  and  kept  him,  with  the 
instincts  of  liberty  and  refinement,  a  prince  among  brawlers,  and  he 
had  come  to  recognize  the  omnipotence  of  events  as  above  all  rea- 
sonable endeavors  to  extricate  himself  from  his  momentary  environ- 
ment ;  and,  therefore,  the  John  Brown  raid  amused  him,  if  it  also 
perplexed  him,  because,  while  weaning  young  followers,  like  Lloyd 
Ouantrell,  from  his  side,  it  brought  the  terror  of  a  general  insurrec- 
tion of  the  slaves  to  his  political  enemies. 

Before  Lloyd  could  excuse  himself  for  rudeness  within  his  father's 
walls,  he,  like  Mr.  Davis,  was  arrested  by  a  strange  and  aggressive 
attitude  of  Abel  Quantrell,  his  father,  toward  Senator  Edgar  Pittson. 

The  old  man  had  concentrated  the  whole  of  his  satyr-like  atten- 
tion upon  this  slender  and  shining-visaged  guest ;  his  mouth  was  set 
in  the  deepest  scorn  and  resolution,  and  his  hollow  nostrils  seemed 
breaking  into  articulate  speech,  so  full  of  expression  were  they  ; 
and  his  faded  eyes  caught  the  dead,  black  shadow  of  his  wig,  and 
looked  on  Edgar  Pittson  as  the  ghost  of  Samuel  from  the  tomb 
might  have  scowled  on  Saul. 

One  hand  was  upon  his  cane,  his  back  against  a  table,  and  with 
the  other  hollow,  almost  transparent  hand,  he  seemed  holding  some- 
thing to  throw  into  his  visitor's  face. 

Mr.  Pittson  did  not  return  the  look  of  Abel  Ouantrell  with  either 


KNO  W-NO  THINGS.  265 

defiance  or  astonishment,  but  stood  with  his  head  shghtly  bowed  and 
his  countenance  almost  negative,  Hke  one  receiving  a  sentence  with 
resignation,  or,  as  Lloyd  Quantrell  thought,  like  that  passive  respect 
with  which  the  young  Smiths  on  the  mountains  had  heard  the  lect- 
ure of  John  Brown  when  our  hero  first  made  their  acquaintance. 

Abel  Quantrell  slowly  lowered  his  menacing  hand  and  put  it  into 
his  bosom,  and,  after  a  moment's  waiting,  spoke : 

"  Do  you  dare  hold  those  compromising  sentiments  in  my  pres- 
ence .'—you,  from  the  unfettered,  unconstraining  West,  which  has 
honored  you  above  your  condition,  and  put  the  future  of  liberty  and 
of  labor  in  your  trust }  " 

The  young  senator  looked  up  and  met  that  overbearing  inquisi- 
tion firmly,  but  without  offense.  His  face  had  the  beauty  of  a  silver 
die,  with  every  lineament  fresh  from  the  engraver's  stroke :  brown 
hair,  flowing  from  a  fine  forehead  to  his  low-set  ears ;  beard  prema- 
turely silvered  beneath  his  jaws,  and  hanging  there  in  fringes  like 
goat's  fleece  ;  mouth  of  cleanliness  and  courage,  the  upper  lip  almost 
too  long,  but  the  chiseled  chin  pendent  to  it  with  more  delicacy,  and 
in  the  nose  was  a  faint  tendency  to  match  the  eagle's  beak ;  but, 
back  of  its  bridge,  the  eyes  drew  far,  like  archers  at  the  drawbridge 
bending  all  their  strength— eyes  of  that  same  silver-gray  which  per- 
vaded his  complexion,  the  orbs  of  public  life  trained  to  think  while 
shooting,  and  to  have  such  nice  relations  with  speech  and  hearing 
that  every  sense  of  man  seemed  in  those  clear  gray  eyes  alone,  placid 
under  their  brown-furred  brows.  His  head  was  drawn  a  little  back 
habitually  as  if  receiving  knowledge  and  attack  ;  and  above  his  slen- 
der, spare  form,  like  the  greyhound's,  this  kingly,  harmonious  head 
inhabited  its  own  firmament : 

"  In  the  monarch  Thought's  dominion — 
It  sfood  there  !  " 

"  Strange,"  said  Senator  Pittson,  "  that  you  radicals  quarrel 
with  ever)'  road  but  your  own,  which  will  lead  to  emancipation  ! 
John  Brown  showed  more  animosity  to  me  than  to  any  other  per- 
son, as  Lloyd  Quantrell  knows.  He  had  taken  offense  at  the  lawful 
action  of  my  party,  and  perhaps  at  its  numbers  also  ;  for  some  men 
never  can  be  right  unless  they  are  hermited  and  irregular,  and  there 
they  show  an  incapacity  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  freedom  after  those 
fruits  are  picked,  because  the  people  do  not  sanction  agitations  ex- 
cept for  tangible  results.     The  skirmish-line  of  life  is  the  barbarian 


266  A'ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 

line ;  sometimes  your  skirmisher  can  bring  on  an  action,  but  in  that 
action  itself  he  disappears.  So  will  all  you  uncompromising  aboli- 
tionists disappear  if  John  Brown  shall  have  brought  on  a  war.  Pru- 
dent men  of  the  multitude,  like  Lincoln  and  Seward,  accustomed  to 
the  training  and  restraints  of  legislatures  and  courts,  will  be  required 
to  save  your  country.     Do  you  understand  me  now,  sir  ?  " 

He  turned  with  a  respectful  flash  of  his  eyes  upon  Abel  Ouantrell. 

"  Whom  have  you  stigmatized  }  "  Abel  Quantrell  hissed. 

"  None,  sir.     I  left  off  nicknaming  when  I  became  a  man." 

"  '  Satan's  rebellion  ' ;  '  the  wicked  people  who  set  Brown  on  ' — you 
know  what  persons  those  stigmas  include.     You  have  defamed — " 

"  Not  one,"  Senator  Pittson  replied  ;  "  none  that  you  can  mean, 
by  word  or  thought.  But,  sir,  you  must  not  discharge  one  set  of 
slaves,  and  create  another.  I  claim  for  my  reason  all  its  responsi- 
bility and  free  course.  Giving  you  honor,  as  is  my  duty,  I  shall  in 
all  public  measures  act  as  if  my  superior  did  not  stand  upon  this 
globe ! " 

As  the  two  men  faced  each  other,  the  moral  spirit  of  the  younger 
rising  and  the  physical  rage  of  the  older  subsiding,  both  Mr.  Davis 
and  Lloyd  were  attracted  by  a  something  common  to  them  both,  as 
if  between  them  was  a  place  of  fascination  which  could  cause  them 
to  fight,  like  two  duelists  crossing  an  open  but  secluded  spot  which 
tempts  their  professional  rivalry  to  the  point  of  deadly  onset. 

"  Come,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  "  we  must  not  fall  out  on  mere  terms. 
Lloyd,  go  your  way,  if  you  rtiean  to  leave  my  fold,  but  keep  my  con- 
fidence ! " 

"Father,"  Lloyd  spoke,  "how  can  you  treat  Mr.  Pittson  so  in 
your  own  house  ?  Oh,  he  has  a  daughter  that  is  so  lovely !  I  could 
almost  love  Light  Pittson,  father." 

The  old  man  sank  into  a  seat,  his  late  excitement  gone. 

"  Mr.  Pittson,  when  shall  I  see  Light  ?  Her  face  was  before  me 
in  my  danger  and  captivity,  and  it  was  a  great  comfort,  too.  It  did 
not  seem  like  any  young  lady's  face  that  fluttered  my  heart ;  rather 
that  rested  me,  and  looked  up  to  me  for  guidance." 

"  Sho,  sho  ! "  from  Abel  Ouantrell ;  "  you  are  on  forbidden 
ground  ! " 

"No,"  spoke  Mr.  Pittson;  "come  in  that  spirit,  Lloyd,  as  to 
your  child  or  sister,  and  Light  will  find  you  a  blessing." 

That  evening  Lloyd  Quantrell  strolled  into  a  liquor-store  in  Bal- 
timore, kept  by  one  Martin,  a  companionable  person  from  the  old 


KNO IV-NO  THINGS. 


267 


St.  Mary's  Peninsula  of  Maryland,  and  together  they  attended  the 
great  Native- American  meeting  in  Monument  Square.  Such  an  out- 
pouring of  rude  yet  well-attired  and  solvent  native  men  later  times 
never  knew ;  it  was  the  apotheosis  of  the  "  rowdy,"  that  culmination 
of  physical  spirit  and  national  jealousy  on  the  brink  of  ideal  issues 
and  against  insoluble  foreignisms.  • 

The  cold  German,  the  mettlesome  Irishman,  had  swarmed  dur- 
ing ten  years  upon  the  settled  land,  and  the  power  of  their  naturali- 
zation was  already  felt  at  the  ballot-box.  It  was  not  in  the  nature 
of  American  boys  to  submit. 

Great  cities  like  New  York  had  passed  under  the  aggressive 
strangers'  yoke,  and  Baltimore  had  been  made  the  citadel  of  resist- 
ance. The  mastering  soul  of  slavery  partly  set  this  later  contest  on, 
but  courage  and  patriotism  were  no  less  the  instincts  of  the  rowdy ; 
his  fathers  had  made  a  land,  strangers  were  unmaking  or  remaking, 
and  the  very  Jews  of  native  stock  were  marching  in  the  "  American  " 
lines ;  the  Germans  of  eighteenth-century  descent  were  deadly  ene- 
mies of  the  nineteenth  centur)-'s  German  importations ;  the  latest 
Irishmen  had  taught  fighting,  and  were  getting  the  worst  of  it  from 
Irishmen's  native  grandsons. 

Toward  the  tall  white  pillar  to  General  Washington  the  defiant 
and  triumphant  "  Native  Americans  "  moved  in  lines  of  sword  and 
fire,  in  clubs,  without  any  other  purpose  than  battle,  by  fist  or 
weapon,  by  steel  or  shot.  The  insignias  on  their  transparent  lan- 
terns told  the  purpose  and  the  degree  of  refinement  of  the  time : 
"The  Blood -Tubs,"  "The  Red  Necks,"  "The  Pioneers,"  "The 
Regulators."  "The  Tigers,"  "The  Ashlands,"  "The  Spartans," 
"The  Black  Snakes,"  "The  Gladiators,"  "The  Rip-Raps,"  "The 
Eubolts,"  "  The  Plug-Uglies."  With  battle-axes,  and  in  red  shirts 
or  grenadier  hats,  they  marched  as  grim  as  executioners. 

As  these,  soldiers  in  all  but  discipline,  strode  past  Lloyd  Ouan- 
trell,  many  a  torch  or  awl-spear  was  brandished  toward  him,  and 
the  shout  raised,  "  Come,  Lloyd  ! "  "  Why  ain't  you  marching,  big 
one  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head,  and  his  heart  was  cold. 

Finally  came  his  own  club,  "  The  Cock  Robins,"  marching  from 
curb  to  curb,  in  broad  lines  of  perfect  form  and  step,  sons  of  men 
of  superior  condition,  and  as  confident  of  their  righteous  principles 
as  guildsmen  in  cities  ever  have  been,  from  Genoa  to  Ghent ;  their 
blazing  sulphur  and  shooting  rockets  brought  Washington's  statue. 


268  KATY  OF   CATOCTIX. 

on  the  summit  of  its  candle,  out  into  the  prominence  of  a  saint  upon 
the  Roman  altar,  and  to  every  lad  there  he  seemed  giving  them  his 
benediction.  This  excess  of  light  fell  suddenly  on  the  broad  shoul- 
ders and  rugged  head  of  the  idol  of  the  club,  Lloyd  Quantrell,  rising 
upon  his  long,  straight  limbs  in  sight  of  them  all,  the  humanization 
of  thacock  they  marched  beneath, 

A  mighty  cheer  arose. 

"  Hip  !  hip  ! "  from  the  captain. 

"  Hurrah  !  "  roared  the  two  hundred  throats. 

As  these  loud  cheers,  repeated  thrice,  seemed  the  ver)'  onset  of 
battle,  the  young  man's  heart  swelled  high,  and  seemed  to  him  to 
burst.  Recollections  of  a  hundred  combats  and  sacrifices,  of  war- 
like friendships  and  assistances,  of  courage  put  to  deadly  tests,  and 
convictions  never  till  now  disturbed,  brought  a  feeling  like  exile  and 
apostasy  to  Lloyd  Ouantrell's  soul ! 

"  Come  !  come !  fall  in ! "  the  fierce  command  rang  down  the 
lines,  addressed  to  him.  The  flaming  column  swayed  and  stopped ; 
the  fifes  and  drums  were  stilled. 

He  waved  his  arms,  so  that  his  elbows  might  hide  his  eyes,  and, 
while  the  tears  streamed  down  his  cheeks,  he  called  in  broken  but 
loud  and  manly  tones  : 

"  No  !  never — any  more — old  boys  !  " 

The  latest  form  of  prig  may  smile  at  pathos  here,  unconscious  of 
his  own  father's  service  in  just  these  associations,  the  rudest  and 
most  ingenuous  of  his  life,  perhaps,  when  his  country  was  no  more 
to  be  reasoned  about  and  sublimated  than  his  sweetheart  or  his 
mother,  but  its  profanation  by  skeptical  philosopher  or  foreign  sav- 
age, alike,  brought  down  the  swift  clinched  hand,  and  armed  young 
organizations,  like  the  call  in  the  Marseillaise  song, 

"  What !  what  do  you  say  }  "  hoarse,  excited  words  broke  from 
the  ranks. 

"  I  say,  '  No  ! '  No  Henry  Winter  Davis  !  No  John  Brown  abo- 
litionists for  me  ! " 

The  lines  were  broken  ;  the  clubsmen  rushed  upon  their  refract- 
ory member  and  seized  him  with  rude  affection  ;  a  torch  was  forced 
into  his  hand,  and  he  was  pushed  into  the  ranks. 

Amid  a  wild  huzza  the  music  and  the  march  started  up,  and  be- 
fore Quantrell  could  dry  his  eyes  or  find  an  initial  point  of  rebellion, 
he  was  in  front  of  the  great  square  base  of  the  monument ;  and 
when  he  looked  up  to  see  Washington  at  the  summit,  resigning  his 


KNO IV-NO  THINGS. 


26g 


commission  at  Annapolis,  he  saw  his  father,  Abel  Quantrell,  cutting 
off  the  view,  and  introducing  Henry  Winter  Davis  as  "  the  Samuel 
Chase  of  Maryland  to-day  !  " 

The  orator  stood  forth  in  the  August  of  life,  barely  turned -liis 
forty-second  year,  and  pride  and  preoccupation  v/orked  together  in 
his  countenance  till  it  seemed  to  have  caught  the  Voltaire-like  mis- 
chief of  old  Quantrell's  wigged  and  upholstered  face,  as  the  latter 
leaned  near,  like  a  statue  in  wax,  with  his  bloodless  palm  in  his  shirt- 
bosom.  The  Governor  of  Maryland,  Mr.  Hicks,  of  the  Eastern 
Shore,  stood  wonderingly  by ;  the  Mayor  of  Baltimore,  Mr.  Swann, 
a  Virginian  by  birth,  looked  on  approvingly  ;  the  senator  from  Mary- 
land, Mr.  Kennedy,  educated  in  that  Virginia  town  where  John 
Brown  now  lay  in  jail,  presided  at  the  meeting.  Over  their  heads 
was  suspended  a  shoemaker's  awl  as  long  as  a  sword. 

The  awl  was  the  favorite  symbol  of  the  monster  meeting.  Near 
by  was  a  blacksmith's  forge  upon  a  wagon,  hammering  out  awls ; 
transparencies  bore  signs  like  "  Third  Ward — awl  right  "  ;  "  Seventh 
Ward — the  awl  is  useful  in  the  hand  of  an  artist  "  ;  "  Eleventh  Ward 
— the  votes  awl  counted." 

What  was  this  awl,  the  peaceful  tool  of  the  cobbler,  doing  at  this 
fierce  political  meeting  ? 

It  was  the  stealthy  and  convenient  weapon  to  punch  intrusive 
foreigners  with,  as  they  crowded  upon  the  polling-places  ;  and  by 
that  instrument,  here  publicly  recognized  in  the  presence  of  Gov- 
ernor, mayor,  senator,  and  congressman,  the  city  of  Baltimore  had 
been  governed  several  years.  The  slavery  question  had  broken  up 
the  old  national  Whig  party,  and  out  of  its  ruins  an  irresolute  local 
majority  had  turned  their  fury  upon  the  foreign  opposition. 

Mr.  Davis  addressed  himself  to  the  connection  between  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Virginia  and  the  foreigners  ;  for  that  Governor  had  checked 
Native-Americanism  by  his  election,  raising  the  slavery  question  to 
the  fore-front.  A  man  no  less  dogmatic  had  put  the  slavery  ques- 
tion under  his  nose  at  the  point  of  a  pike. 

"  Pikes  and  awls,  Lloyd  ! "  spoke  the  liquor-dealer,  Martin,  at 
Quantrell's  elbow.     "  Won't  it  be  guns  next .''  " 

"  The  awl  must  make  shoes  for  soldiers  soon,  I  fear,"  Quantrell 
replied. 

Never  had  Mr.  Davis  spoken  as  he  did  that  night,  his  seat  in 
Congress  being  at  issue,  and  the  accusation  of  covert  abolitionism 
already  raised  against  him.     He  denounced  the  opposite  party  as 


2/0  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN: 

"hoping  to  retain  power  by  the  fears  of  one  half  the  people  for  the 
existence  of  slavery,  and  of  the  other  half  for  the  existence  of  the 
Union.  .  .  .  False  to  their  mission,"  said  he,  "  as  the  portress  of  hell 
to  hers,  and  ready  for  the  purpose  of  retaining  their  hold  on  power 
to  let  loose  on  this  blessed  land  the  Satan  of  demoniacal  passion  ! 
...  I  am  stronger  in  my  district,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  in  the  State 
of  Maryland,  in  any  appeal  I  may  see  fit  to  make  to  the  people,  than 
all  the  banded  power  of  the  Legislature  bound  into  one  man." 

Robust,  scornful,  fierce,  magnificent,  his  oratory  and  temper 
were  the  exact  mirror  of  the  meeting  he  addressed,  and  proved  the 
dangerous  power  of  the  public  platform  or  "  stump  "  to  educate 
crowds.  Had  he  ordered  those  men  to  demolish  any  public  or  pri- 
vate building,  they  would  have  done  so  after  a  few  sentences  from 
Henry  Winter  Davis ;  and  yet  this  man,  in  what  he  was  truly  aim- 
ing at,  was  as  lonely  before  those  masses  as  Galileo  with  his  con- 
victions of  science  before  the  superstitious  priests.  He  could  abuse 
his  enemies,  but  never  advocate  freedom  and  opportunity  for  black 
men. 

It  was  this  sense  of  moral  impotence  in  Baltimore  which  made 
his  sentences  fall  like  the  lash  of  flagellation  upon  himself;  and, 
when  he  had  done,  he  looked  at  the  electrified  thousands  as  if  he 
would  like  to  kick  them  out  of  his  sight,  and  nothing  delighted  them 
like  that  expression. 

As  Lloyd  Quantrell,  with  his  sensibilities  all  disturbed  and  his 
enthusiasm  frozen,  passed  alon^  that  night  into  the  Old  Town  quar- 
ter, a  man  addressed  him  in  a  foreign  accent : 

"  I  do  not  beg.     I  give  you  zis  ring." 

A  priestly-looking  man,  in  shabby  priestly  dress,  was  speaking. 
A  little  ring  was  on  his  finger,  and  he  held  it  under  a  street-lamp, 
continuing : 

"  I  tell  you  why  I  do  zis  :  I  starve  for  bread." 

"  Foreigner ! "  thought  Quantrell,  his  Native- American  repulsions 
not  all  gone.     "  Why  do  you  come  here,  friend,  to  Hve  on  us  }  " 

"  I  came  for  justeece,"  exclaimed  the  man  ;  "  I  want  justeece  for 
my  mothair ;  my  fathair's  name  for  me  !  " 

The  man's  black  eyes  shone ;  his  face  was  thin  and  haggard. 
He  pressed  the  little  ring  into  Ouantrell's  hand. 

"  Only  two  dollair,"  he  said  ;  "  not  to  sell  it  you,  but  to  borrow 
on  it.     I  know  you,  sare ;  you  live  there." 

He  pointed  to  Abel  Ouantrell's  house. 


NEW  FACES  IN   THE  VALLEY. 


271 


"  Let's  see,"  said  Lloyd ;  "  two  dollars.  I  have  only  got  one, 
but  I  can  borrow  another  here,  for  I  see  June  Booth  at  the  win- 
dow." 

He  stood  opposite  Booth's  residence,  and  at  the  open  window 
thereof  sat  the  very  likeness  of  the  noted  dead  tragedian,  smoking 
a  cigar.     As  he  stepped  toward  this  person,  the  stranger  cried : 

"  No,  no  !    Not  one  cent  from  there !     Nevair !  " 

He  was  gone,  with  Lloyd's  dollar  in  his  hand,  and  the  ring  left 
in  Lloyd's  palm. 

As  Quantrell  looked  at  the  ring  that  night,  he  found  the  letters 
chased  within  it : 

"J.  B.  B.  TO  HIS  WIFE,  Christine,  1814." 


CHAPTER   XXVHL 

NEW   FACES   IN   THE  VALLEY. 

Having  sent  his  new  slave  Ashby  out  of  harm's  way,  to  be  the 
foreman  of  his  other  slaves  in  the  lower  Potomac  country — forward- 
ing him  thither,  with  Katy's  dog  Fritz,  through  Lloyd's  man-dealing 
uncle — Quantrell  returned  to  Charlestown  and  witnessed  the  conclu- 
sion of  John  Brown's  small,  wide-surging  act.  Nothing  had  hap- 
pened in  the  history  of  English  America  to  produce  the  same  pro- 
found impression,  except  the  defeat  of  Braddock  and  the  treason  of 
Arnold ;  and  John  Brown's  work  had  the  mystery  and  subtlety  of 
the  last  and  was  followed  by  the  panic  of  the  first. 

The  magnitude  of  slavery's  interest — hardly  less  than  four  thou- 
sand million  dollars — the  sophistical  statesmanship  and  political 
economy  created  about  it,  which  involved  the  ridicule  and  self-re- 
spect of  leaders  long  self-deluded ;  the  peace  and  safety  of  white 
society,  and  the  patriotism  of  compromises,  this  beggar-man  had 
treated  as  common  obstructions  and  idolatries,  like  some  captain  of 
Mohammed  bursting  into  an  old  religion  and  state,  cimeter  in  hand. 

Beggar  he  was,  by  all  the  evidence,  having  begged  from  town  to 
town  the  few  dollars  for  his  expedition,  and  procured  his  arms  by  a 
misapprehension  almost  like  deceit ;  with  neither  scrip  nor  raiment 
for  his  intrepid  journey,  no  change  of  clothes,  no  provision  for  his 
needy  family  in  the  cold  mountains  of  New  York  on  winter's  brink ; 


2/2 


KATY  OF  CATOCTUV. 


and  recruiting  chiefly  from  the  children  of  his  loins,  and  holding 
none  of  them  to  be  better  than  any  vagrant  negro  in  his  command. 

Lloyd  Quantrell  had  followed  John  Brown  so  closely  that  he, 
almost  alone,  with  his  Vermont  father's  business  eye,  discerned  the 
reality  of  this  naked  martyr. 

His  friends,  Booth  and  Beall,  adopted  the  current  view — that  a 
great  conspiracy  existed,  of  which  Brown's  band  was  only  the  cou- 
rageous tail,  and  therefore  they  held  the  North  responsible  for  a  pri- 
vate deed. 

Quantrell  saw  in  John  Brown's  lonely  act  the  isolation  and  ex- 
posure of  slavery,  which  could  incite  the  poor  Northern  whites 
against  it — those  who,  possessing  the  vote-power,  would  compel  the 
Northern  rich  to  follow  them  speedily ;  he  began  dimly  to  discern 
the  meaning  of  the  distant  Kansas  contest — wage-labor  against 
forced  labor — he  saw  that  his  father's  work  was  bearing  seed,  and 
that  abolitionists  were  no  longer  the  philosophers  and  the  idealists 
only,  but  the  simple,  the  deadly  farmers  of  the  North  and  West. 

He  resigned  himself  to  the  universal  fear,  and  resolved,  for  his 
property,  his  prejudices,  and  his  indignation,  to  act  with  that  Demo- 
cratic party  he  had  so  long  hated,  and  to  proselytize  for  it  among 
his  Native-American  friends. 

He  felt  the  clearer  to  do  this  because  his  father  had  written  :  "  I 
expected  as  much  of  you,  my  son ;  and  I  would  rather  see  you  walk 
promptly  to  your  place  in  the  files  of  slavery  and  disunion  than  to 
remain  of  an  uncertain  mind." 

"  Dear  father !  "  Lloyd  thought,  "  nothing  he  has  ever  said  to  me 
seemed  so  warm  with  compliment !  We  can  differ  and  respect  each 
other  more." 

Then  there  came  the  kind  desire  of  his  father,  added  to  the  same 
letter,  with  the  confidence  of  a  chivalric  opponent : 

"  The  request  I  make  of  you  is  not  to  bestow  your  heart,  and, 
for  your  hand,  remember  your  mother's  pride  of  family." 

No  other  command  had  Abel  Quantrell  ever  laid  upon  his  son, 
who  had  many  a  time  longed  for  a  father's  warm  commands. 

While  other  sons  had  chafed  under  parental  restriction,  this  son, 
deeply  affectionate  and  consciously  his  father's  mental  inferior,  had 
pined  for  obligations  and  for  the  love  which  imposes  them  upon  a 
son. 

The  first  command  his  father  had  given  him,  in  proud  respect, 
had  been  to  go  to  battle  for  his  convictions. 


NEW  FACES  IN   THE   VALLEY.  273 

The  next— a  request  so  kind  that  his  tears  came  to  read  it  twice 
—was  the  great  old  father's  desire  that  Lloyd  should  withhold  his 
heart  and  hand. 

"  My  heart,"  cried  Lloyd  in  the  depths  of  his  soul,  "  is  gone  be- 
yond my  reach.  Can  I  give  my  hand  to  Katy  and  break  my  dear 
old  father's  sole  injunction  ?  No,  I  must  wait.  I  will  not  disobey 
him.     He  asks  me,  too,  in  my  dead  mother's  name !  " 

This  conclusion  was  enjoined  on  him  by  another  parental  confi- 
dence :  his  father  had  named  to  him  the  lady  of  his  choice. 

The  disturbance  effected  by  John  Brown's  raid  in  the  old  settled 
lines  and  communities  near  by,  hardly  the  local  scandal-monger  could 
enumerate  or  follow.  It  created  an  imperial  theme  where,  for  a  hun- 
dred years,  the  torpor  of  slavery  and  the  milking  of  cows  had  blended 
with  each  other's  patriarchal  thoughts,  as  when  the  herds  and  herd- 
men  of  Lot  and  Abraham  once  looked  up  and  saw  rising  from  the 
plain  of  Jordan  the  alluring  mirage  of  the  sinful  cities  of  the  plain. 

New,  willful  people  came  and  camped  by  the  Shenandoah.  The 
girls  saw  finer  and  bolder  men  than  had  filled  the  measure  of  their 
ambition.  Soldier-clothes  invaded  homes  of  piety  and  humility,  and, 
while  the  women  yielded  to  the  trance  of  idleness  and  compliment, 
their  fathers  and  brothers  grew  fuddled  with  strangers,  and  heard 
new  doctrines  of  morals  and  disloyalty. 

What  a  temptation  for  Nelly  Harbaugh  when  she  found  her  so- 
ciety desired  by  the  actor  Booth  ! 

Luther  had  arranged  with  Nelly  to  baptize  her  into  his  church, 
and  his  loving  mastership  had  already  begun  to  soothe  her  soul  to 
peace,  when  here  appeared  a  wiser  admirer  yet,  all  eloquent  with 
youth,  beauty,  and  worldliness. 

By  Luther's  sunburned  and  unshaved  face  and  rough  Dunker 
cloth  the  form  and  countenance  of  Booth  seemed  like  a  prince's  in 
military  uniform  beside  some  giant  peasant-recruit  of  his  hereditary 
subjects. 

The  large,  tender  eyes  of  Luther  were  worth  all  Mr.  Booth's  re- 
finements, but  too  often  of  late  they  had  worn  the  dull  coin  light  of 
avarice.  He  had  seen  a  great,  neighboring  opportunity  to  make 
money,  and  his  heavy  Bavarian-French  nature  had  kindled  to  it  like 
his  military  forefathers  to  the  stranger's  loot. 

"  Miss  Nelly,"  spoke  Booth,  as  he  was  giving  the  girls  a  supper 
at  the  principal  hotel,  with  ale  and  wine  among  its  fall  birds  and  new 
venison,  "  do  you  think  I  would  go  away  to  make  five  dollars  a  load 


274 


KATY  OF  CA  roc  TIN. 


huckstering,  and  leave  for  a  single  day  a  noble  face  like  this,  fit  for 
Queen  Semiramis  ?     No,  I  would  be  too  proud  and  jealous !  " 

"  Hush  ! "  said  Nelly,  as  Booth  looked  with  all  his  serious  and 
insinuating  interest  into  her  face.  "  Not  one  word  against  my  lover. 
You  do  not  know  how  hard  it  is  to  make  five  dollars." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Booth  ;  "  I  feel  such  an  interest  in  you.  It  is 
the  interest  I  would  feel  in  a  noble  treasure  hidden  for  years  in  the 
mountains  ! " 

"  It  took  me,"  Nelly  answered,  with  a  cold  blush  of  modesty, 
like  one  at  last  looked  down,  "  six  whole  months  to  make  five  dol- 
lars, when  I  wanted  it  to  buy  a  pair  of  shoes  ! " 

"  Oh,  shame  !  "  said  Booth  ;  "and  I  was  making  my  three  dollars 
a  day  as  second  walking-gentleman  !  " 

"  Your  father  left  you  that  rich  chance  ;  I  have  heard  of  him. 
But  I  could  only  make  thirty  cents  a  day,  and  could  only  find  work 
at  seeding  and  harvest,  hardly  four  weeks  in  all ;  and  rain,  or  too 
many  laborers,  or  woman's  ailing,  would  throw  me  out  a  day  here 
and  a  day  there,  so  it  was  winter  before  I  had  my  shoes." 

"  And  dress  becomes  you  so  wonderfully  !  I  have  paid  much  at- 
tention to  dress  for  ladies.  Nelly,  I  could  make  you  the  sensation 
of  Richmond  or  Washington — yes,  of  Baltimore  ! " 

As  his  eye  roved  over  her  fine  throat  and  commanding  profile, 
her  abundant  length  of  hair  and  length  of  trunk.  Booth  clasped  his 
hands  and  seemed  to  tremble. 

"  You  actor  !  "  Nelly  spoke  low,  with  her  eye  on  tender  Katy,  to 
whom  Mr.  Fenwick  was  modestly  attentive — "  I  am  not  to  be  car- 
ried off  my  feet  by  your  artful  praise,  for  in  my  own  land  and  station 
I  have  been  courted  by  many." 

"  Let  me  see  your  native  region,"  Booth  appealed  ;  "  I  hear  it  is 
not  far  from  here.  Though  you  are  engaged,  and  to  a  real  good 
fellow,  who  will  take  all  the  care  of  you  he  knows,  perhaps  I  may 
find  your  counterpart  in  the  Catoctin  Valley,  and  not  go  away  all 
broken  up.  What  lovers  have  you  had  ?  You  almost  tempt  me  to 
turn  farmer." 

"  I  have  had  all  the  poor  young  men  around  to  come  to  see  me 
and  propose  ;  nearly  all  the  widowers  of  a  marriageable  turn ;  sev- 
eral mechanics ;  a  preacher  out  of  nearly  every  sect.  The  mer- 
chants' drummers  from  the  city  generally  want  to  run  away  with 
me.  More  than  one  married  man  has  offered  to  be  divorced  to 
get  me." 


NEW  FACES  IN    THE   VALLEY.  275 

"  And  temptations  often  ?  "  Booth  spoke,  with  the  gentlest  re- 
spect. 

"  No  ;  insults,  but  no  temptations.  I  always  knew  my  value  ;  I 
know  it  now,  sir  !  " 

She  turned  to  her  admirer  with  the  reserve  and  bodily  self-respect 
of  a  greater  person  than  one  in  a  half-cotton  print.  He  did  not 
flinch,  however,  but  distended  his  eyes  in  the  greater  rapture,  slowly 
saying : 

'*  No  woman  on  the  American  stage  can  do  that  !  " 

"  What }  " 

"  Give  the  expression  to  language  that  you  can  do,  Miss  Har- 
baugh.  There  is  a  fortune  for  you,  and  a  world-wide  fame  as  an 
actress  ! " 

"  Oh,  do  not  tell  me  that !  "  the  woman  said,  fighting  down  an- 
other rapture  in  her  own  face — "  do  not  be  a  devil  to  me  !  I  tell 
you,  sir,  nothing  can  separate  me  from  that  child's  brother,  to  whom 
I  am  engaged  !  " 

She  pointed  to  Katy  Bosler. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Booth,  with  a  shadow  of  deep  regret ; 
"not  even  your  duty  to  the  talents  which  nature  gave  you  for  a 
mighty  life  ! " 

Katy,  no  prude  in  the  joy  of  her  new  love,  readily  yielded  to  the 
invitation  of  the  two  young  men  to  visit  her  home,  in  which  her  pride 
and  hospitality  were  innocently  excited;  and  Lloyd's  absence  she 
did  not  weigh  in  her  duty  to  his  friends.  Mr.  Booth  obtained  two 
buggies  through  Mr.  Beall's  good  offices,  who  had  been  much  taken 
with  Katy's  goodness  and  beauty ;  Hugh  Fenwick  driving  Katy,  and 
John  Booth  driving  Nelly,  they  left  Charlestown  the  day  Quantrell 
spent  in  Baltimore. 

Eight  miles  to  Harper's  Ferry  and  eight  to  Crampton's  Gap  let 
them  down  over  the  mountain  rim  into  the  brown  and  gold  bowl  of 
Catoctin  Valley ;  and,  as  they  moved  toward  Jake  Bosler's  farm  in 
the  exhilarating  air  and  restful  sceneries,  the  young  priest-student 
spoke  to  Katy  of  religious  life,  and  love  made  benevolent  to  human 
creatures. 

"Are  you,  too,  of  te  old  Dutch  like  us,  Mr.  Fenwick  ?" 

"  Say  '  Father  Fenwick  ' — it's  more  agreeable  to  me  from  you, 
Katy;  you  are  so  like  a  dear  child.  If  you  can't  say  that,  say 
'  Hugh ' ;  for  I  must  be  either  your  spiritual  or  your  familiar  friend, 
and  '  Mister '  is  neither." 


276 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIiV. 


"Oh,  then,  I'll  say  'Father  Fenwick.'  Tell  me  about  marrying 
people  and  about  wedding-rings." 

"  Dear  Kate !  marriage  never  was  sanctified  till  after  Luther's 
death." 

He  crossed  himself,  speaking  of  Luther,  and  Katy  cried  : 

"  Luter  dead  !     Our  Luter  }  " 

"  Martin  Luther,  the  apostate,  Katy." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  didn't  know  him.  Father  Fenwick." 

"Marriage  was  first  celebrated  in  the  church  by  Innocent  III, 
having  been  a  mere  civil  contract  before  that ;  but  the  Council  of 
Trent,  meeting  while  Friar  Luther"  —  crossing  himself  again  — 
"  passed  to  his  flames,  ordered  and  fixed  it  fast." 

"  Oh,  it  did  }  "  observed  Katy  ;  "I'm  glad  of  that." 

"  Then,  my  child,  marriage  was  made  one  of  the  seven  sacra- 
ments, conferring  grace,  and  forbidden  to  clerics  ;  and  all  clandestine 
marriage,  also,  was  forbid." 

"  Seven  sacraments  ?  "  observed  Katy  ;  "  not  all  at  once,  I  hope  ! 
Not  wine  seven  times  of  a  Sunday.'*  " 

"  No,  little  Pope  Innocent ;  marriage  was  then  taken  into  the 
church,  like  the  dove  taken  back  into  the  ark,  and  made  one  of  seven 
holy  things,  hke  Penance  and  Holy  Order." 

"  I  learned  a  little  penance  at  school  one  winter,"  thoughtfully 
added  Katy ;  "  but  our  Luter  he's  a  penmans  that's  wonderful  ! 
Luter  can  shade  letters  like  a  sign-painter.  Gracious  !  don't  you 
squeeze  me  that-a  way  !  " 

"  Kate,  you  are  such  virgin  mold  and  mind,  I  would  like  to 
educate  you.  No  flower  transplanted  would  grow  more  nobly. 
Oh,  if  I  had  you  at  old  Saint  Thomas's  Manor,  far  down  the  Po- 
tomac, I  at  the  Jesuits'  old  palace  there  and  you  in  the  pretty 
school  right  by,  my  studies  would  be  relaxed  by  the  care  of  your 
education,  and,  like  the  Carmelite  sisters  who  lie  buried  in  the  gar- 
den, I  could  lean  above  you,  my  sweet  sister,  and  guide  your  soul 
and  mind  ! " 

"  Eferypody  wants  to  make  a  nun  of  me.  Father  Fenwick  ;  Job 
Snowberger  is  crazy  for  me  to  come  to  Snow  Hill,  and  you  want  me 
to  go  to  Saint  Thomas's ;  but  I  want  to  marry  Lloyd." 

The  broad-chested,  fresh-skinned,  hale  young  no\ntiate  looked 
at  Katy  pityingly : 

"  We  are  forbidden  to  interfere  in  courtships,  but  Lloyd,  my 
Katy,  is  dreadfully  robust  for  your  gentle  nature  !    I  grant  his  open 


NEIV  FACES  IN   THE   VALLEY. 


'■77 


temper,  but  are  you  a  being  prepared  for  him,  to  wear  with  him  in 
the  long  round  of  life  ?  " 

"  Oh,  maype  I  can  learn  some  time,  Father  Fenwick  !  Maype 
you  might  help  me.     My  gracious  !  tere  is  a  horseshoe  in  te  road." 

Before  Hugh  Fenwick  could  stop,  Kate  was  over  the  buggy- 
wheel  and  back  again  with  the  cast  shoe. 

"Hoofeisa/  That's  good  luck  always,"  she  cried,  "and  now, 
maype,  I'll  find  my  wedding-ring." 

A  growl  and  loud  bark  came  from  under  the  buggy-seat,  and 
the  pointer-dog  Albion  burst  from  under  Katy's  gown  and  jumped 
into  the  road  and  ran  after  Mr.  Booth's  carriage,  into  which  Nelly 
Harbaugh  had  him  taken. 

Hugh  Fenwick  now  displayed  his  prying  scholarship  on  the  sub- 
ject of  finger-rings,  mixing  his  traditions  and  science  superstitiously, 
like  the  young  Jesuit  he  would  be. 

"  The  ring,  my  mountain  flower,  is  in  our  church  Jidei  sacra- 
mentum,  the  badge  of  fidelity.  Levinus  Leminus  held,  and  so  did 
Gellius,  a  holy  philosopher,  that  an  artery  or  vital  nerve  stretched 
from  the  ring-finger  to  the  heart." 

"  My  heart's  empty,"  sobbed  Katy,  "ever  since  I  took  it  off." 

"  That  was  a  grave  error,  little  penitent ;  many  married  women 
will  never  remove  their  betrothal  ring  even  to  wash  their  hands.  In 
Spain  the  giving  of  a  ring  is  a  legal  claim  to  a  husband  in  her  who 
can  show  the  ring.  The  Holy  Father-  wears  the  fisherman's  ring, 
and  seals  his  letters  with  it." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Katy,  "  and  a  wedding-ring  cures  fits  and  a  sty  on 
the  eye,  and  fetches  up  girls  out  of  a  swoon.  No  girl  without  a 
ring-finger,  to  put  te  ring  on,  can  marry  safe.  Te  fortune-teller  told 
me  I  should  lose  my  ring,  and  then  she  took  it  from  me  herself.  I 
can  only  find  it  py  te  Bible  now,  and  I  must  find  te  Bible  in  a  water- 
brook  where  there  never  was  any  books,  Father  Fenwick." 

Katy's  head  leaned  convulsively  upon  the  gentle  divinity  student, 
who  told  her  of  the  solemn  beauty  of  his  church's  ceremony,  the 
priest  in  rich  pontificals,  the  clerks  in  surplices  carrying  the  holy- 
water  pot,  the  basin,  and  the  sprinkler  to  bless  the  golden  marriage- 
ring. 

" '  Ego  conjungo  vos  in  matrijnonium.  Our  help  is  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord.  Lord  bless  this  ring,  which  we  bless  in  thy  name,  that 
she  who  shall  wear  it,  keeping  true  faith  unto  her  spouse,  may  abide 
in  thy  peace  and  will ! '  " 


278  A^ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Hugh  Fenwick  made  of  a  silver  ring  he  wore  a  circle  around 
Katy's  finger  as  he  pronounced  this  copy  of  the  ceremony,  and, 
blessing  it  with  his  finger,  he  kissed  the  bruised  little  hand  and  then 
the  lips  of  Katy,  trembling  himself. 

The  pious  nature  of  the  child  was  swayed  to  the  strange,  strong 
words,  and,  seeking  about  her  for  additional  help,  she  found  the 
horseshoe  at  her  feet,  and  held  it  above  both  their  heads. 

"  Father  Hugh,  you'll  marry  me  to  Lloyd,  won't  you,  if  nobody 
else  will }  " 

Katy  clung  to  him  in  the  emotions  of  fierce  will  and  fear  alike. 
He  felt  her  large,  swimming  eyes  shine  in  on  him  with  power. 

"  Why  me,  Katy.>  I  am  a  Roman  Catholic— a  Jesuit  to  be — and 
not  of  your  mountain  sects." 

"  Lloyd  is  a  Catholic.  I  will  pe  what  he  wants  me.  Fm  no- 
pody,  and  God  gif  him  to  me.  Oh,  promise  me  you  will  pe  our 
friend !  " 

He  hesitated  as  the  carriage  stopped  at  Jake  Hosier's  gate. 

"  Ha,  Fenwick  !     What's  this — a  conquest  ?  " 

It  w^as  Booth  who  spoke,  seeing  Katy  with  her  arm  around 
Fenwick's  neck. 

"  Promise  me  !  "  cried  Katy,  indifferent  to  who  looked  on.  "  I 
will  not  let  you  go." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  if  it  ever  becomes  my  duty  I  will  be  your  ghostly 
friend." 

Luther  Bosler  and  his  father  had  just  come  in  from  the  field, 
and  Luther's  wagon  was  loaded  for  another  huckstering  trip  to 
Charlestown.  Nelly  Harbaugh  saw  that  her  affianced  was  worn 
and  haggard  with  his  double  labors,  and  she  took  him  in  her  long, 
strong  arms  with  real  affection,  sharpened  by  almost  maternal  com- 
punction. 

"  My  poor,  willing  slave,  are  you  laboring  so  hard  for  me  ?  I 
am  not  worthy  of  it,  darling.  But  I  have  thought  of  you  with  a 
full  heart.     Oh,  I  love  you  so  painfully,  so  fearfully,  so  selfishly !  " 

Fenwick  and  Booth  looked  on  with  surprise  at  the  exhibition  of 
devotion  and  tears  from  this  late  worldly  beauty  of  the  country,  and 
Booth  said  to  Fenwick,  so  that  Nelly  heard  him : 

"  Every  attitude  she  takes  shows  the  natural  artist." 

"  Well  it  may,  sir,"  cried  Nelly,  turning  on  Booth,  with  tears  like 
rage  as  well  as  pity,  in  her  telling  eyes ;  "  if  Nature  ever  taught  me 
well,  it  was  to  love  this  man  !  " 


NEW  FACES  IN   THE   VALLEY.  279 

She  threw  her  arms  around  him  again,  and,  standing  almost  to 
his  own  height,  kissed  him  and  still  wept. 

"  Dearest,"  Luther  said,  tenderly,  "why  do  you  cry?  We  have 
not  parted  many  hours,  but  in  an  hour  more  I  must  go  away  again. 
Tere  is  money  to  be  made,  and  Decemper  is  almost  here,  when  we 
will  pecome  man  and  wife." 

"  December  ?  Oh,  my  love,  my  teacher,  it  is  too  far  away !  I 
am  afraid  something  will  happen.  We  are  not  what  we  were  in 
peace  and  content,  before  all  these  strangers  came." 

"  Not  what  we  were,  Nelly  }  Revolutions  could  not  alter  me 
when  I  have  started  out.  Tisturbance  is  love's  mutuality,  driving 
us  together,  like  when  te  Indians  infaded  our  Dutch  forefathers,  and 
te  women  and  men  tefended  each  other.  This  revolution  is  for  our 
good.  Men  will  see  te  danger  of  slavery,  and  times  will  grow  better 
when  it  is  gone." 

"  Who  wants  to  go  }  "  pleaded  Nelly  Harbaugh.  *'  I  have  been 
a  slave,  too,  working  in  the  corn-fields  among  the  men.  It  was  my 
joy  and  independence,  and  I  would  be  your  slave,  also,  for  all  the 
hard  and  steady  life  of  the  farmer's  wife.  But  do  not  leave  me  so 
much  !  Do  not  love  money  more  than  you  love  me  !  Take  me  to 
Virginia  with  you  to-day  !  " 

"  What,  Nelly  !  Are  you  so  impulsive  ?  I  thought  you  was  keen 
and  worldly.  Time  prings  good  discipline.  Waiting  is  surely  not  hard 
for  genuine  love.     Here  are  visitors,  and  we  owe  tern  hospitality." 

He  indicated  Booth,  who  was  looking  critically  on,  and  the  dog 
Albion  snapped  at  Nelly's  feet  Hke  another  mentor.  Jake  Bosler 
remarked,  vaguely : 

"  Eferyting  coom  right,  maype.     Bi'm-by." 

Booth  spoke  to  Luther  with  manly  equality,  just  cordial  and  no 
more ;  but  to  Luther's  father  he  was  attentive  and  respectful,  and 
he  soon  became  the  attractive  personage  of  the  farm.  Hugh  Fen- 
wick  hung  the  horseshoe  over  the  dove's  nest,  and  heard  the  doves' 
"coo-roo,"  and  remarked  that  the  young  doves  were  big  enough 
to  fly. 

While  Nelly  and  Katy  went  to  make  some  special  dessert  dishes 
for  the  distinguished  guests,  Mr.  Booth  challenged  Luther  and  Fen- 
wick*to  gymnastic  feats  upon  the  lawn  at  the  tree  where  the  doves 
roosted. 

He  bared  his  arms,  and  the  white  muscles  there  seemed  like 
blue-veined  marble,  and  each  great  globe  of  sinews  swelled  like  a 


280  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

human  brain,  as  if  the  thinking  culture  of  this  young  gladiator  was 
in  his  arms,  and  not  within  his  skull. 

He  raised  himself  upon  the  limb  of  the  apple-tree,  and,  by  alter- 
nate arms,  singly,  until  his  chin  was  higher  than  the  bough  ;  and  he 
vaulted  over  a  stone  wall  by  one  hand  and  wrist  without  running, 
and  raised  a  grindstone  to  the  level  of  his  shoulders,  none  of  the 
others  being  able  to  do  the  same ;  and  he  also  outleaped  them  both 
upon  the  level — and  so  Nelly  Harbaugh  found  him,  with  coat  off  and 
sleeves  rolled  up,  the  hair  black  and  strong  upon  his  arms  and 
breast-bone,  so  that  it  might  almost  have  been  combed,  and  his 
knees  slightly  bowed,  though  not  sufficient  to  affect  his  erect,  com- 
pact stature. 

"  Why,  sir,"  cried  Nelly  Harbaugh,  "  you  are  training  for  the 
circus,  and  not  for  the  theatre." 

"  O  Queen  Nelly !  I  am  training  in  the  athletic  school,  like  my 
father.  He  and  Kean  drove  classical  acting  off  by  the  splendor  of 
their  combats,  dying  all  slashed  to  pieces  and  with  broken  blades, 
but  fencing  yet  with  hand  and  foot  and  tooth  and  nail." 

For  the  first  time  at  Bosler's  farm  the  girls  were  taken  into  din- 
ner, society-fashion,  on  the  arms  of  Booth  and  Fenwick,  to  the 
blushing  confusion  of  these  twain ;  and  Nelly  and  Katy  saw  with 
curiosity  the  strangers  eating  nimbly  with  their  forks.  Katy  had 
always  been  told  that  it  was  politeness  to  eat  with  the  back  of  her 
knife,  instead  of  with  the  blade  to  the  mouth,  as  Jake  Bosler  did. 
Jake,  however,  took  no  note  of  methods,  except  the  method  of  the 
clock  and  of  the  sun-dial ;  and,  passing  up  his  plate  for  animal  fuel, 
whereby  to  plow  and  sow,  uttered  the  suggestion — 

"Bi'm-by." 

Fenwick  asked  the  blessing  at  Luther's  request,  sectarianism 
being  only  superficial  in  this  region,  and  the  girls  watched  the  intel- 
lectual play  between  the  young  men  —  the  Jesuit,  the  Protestant 
pietist,  and  the  Oriental-looking  type  of  Booth,  where  may  have 
been  a  distant  trace  of  Jew.  Luther  and  Booth  were  seeking  to 
draw  each  other  out,  and  Fenwick  was  the  moderator  between 
them — too  prone  to  agree  with  both,  as  if  some  moral  weakness  re- 
mained in  the  fixed  intentions  of  his  clerical  career. 

Luther,  on  the  whole,  furnished  the  strong  meat  of  the  discd^lrse, 
unsuspecting  of  Mr.  Booth's  persuasive  line  of  inquiry. 

"  You  think,  then,  friend  Luther,  that  John  Brown  was  not  alto- 
gether inexcusable  ? " 


NEW  FACES  IN   THE   VALLEY.  28 1 

"  Not  excusable ;  for  in  our  faith  no  man  can  do  war  and  pe 
right,  neither  offering  nor  resenting  violence.  We  submit,  consid- 
ering oppression  the  least  of  evils.  But  few  do  submit  on  princi- 
ple, like  us,  and  in  human  nature  John  Brown  was  te  least  selfish 
of  soldiers.  He  had  no  interests  at  stake,  no  chance  ;  nothing  but 
te  moral  example  of  his  failure  and  tespair." 

"  A  strait-jacket  and  lifetime  in  the  lunatic  asylum  would  suit 
him  !  "  suggested  Booth. 

"  He  is  too  proud  to  take  that  refuge,"  Luther  said.  "  He  re- 
sented it  when  te  Ohio  lawyers  came  to  his  help.  That  would  be 
the  meanest  of  all,  and  Governor  Wise  is  too  honoraple  a  man  to 
put  a  sound  head  like  John  Brown's  among  te  maniacs.  Te  Scribes 
and  Pharisees  in  their  spite  nefer  offered  to  treat  Jesus  so." 

Hugh  Fenwick  was  prompt  to  make  the  pious  sign,  and  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Compare  John  Brown  to  Jesus  ?  " 

"  But  for  Jesus  no  man  would  be  in  John  Brown's  shoes  now, 
saying  over  te  words  :  '  Take  no  thought  for  your  life  ;  for  te  mor- 
row shall  take  thought  for  te  things  of  itself,  and  sufficient  unto  te 
day  is  te  evil  thereof.'  " 

"Oh,"  said  Fenwick,  "authority,  not  caprice,  must  order  these 
things — Washington  or  Rome  !  " 

"  But  tey  never  do.  King  George  nefer  ordered  General  Wash- 
ington. Te  authority  that  counts  te  sparrow's  fall  said  also,  '  Be- 
ware of  men,  for  tey  will  deliver  you  up  to  te  councils,  and  ye  shall 
pe  prought  pefore  governors  and  kings  for  My  sake.'  " 

"  O  Luther,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  sighed,  "  why  don't  you  choose 
a  public  life  ?     It  is  so  comforting  to  hear  you  talk." 

"  Indeed  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Booth  ;  "  he's  up  in  the  lines,  too  ! — But, 
Luther,  wasn't  it  great  conceit  for  Captain  Brown  to  take  this  stu- 
pendous task  upon  himself  }  " 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Fenwick,  "  the  Puritan  never  goes  to  a  con- 
fessor to  assure  his  intentions.  He  is  a  secretive,  treacherous 
mover ! " 

"  Whoever  does  anything  original  is  conceited,  te  dull  and  en- 
vious think.  Columpus  had  no  pusiness  to  find  te  New  World. 
John  Brown  had  no  pusiness  to  cut  at  this  tumor  in  our  society.  I 
haf  been  accused  in  our  Tunker  body  of  te  conceit  that  I  could 
preach,  pecause  I  haf  been  elected.  Only  te  greatest  kind  of  man 
sees  te  universal,  daily  necessity ;  what  eferypody  else  ought  to  have 


282  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

seen,  but  nefer  did  see — steam  to  save  toil,  lightning  to  save  time, 
liberty  to  save  sorrow.  I  wonder  at  John  Brown,  but  te  great  con- 
ceit was  his.     These  mountains  will  not  hold  his  name  ! " 

"  Soon-down — Bi'm-by  !  "  Jake  Bosler  spoke,  rising  and  kissing 
Katy  welcome  home. 

"  Wait !  "  said  Mr.  Booth  ;  "  let  me  give  you  a  recitation,  Luther, 
before  you  leave  us." 

As  Booth  arose,  the  doves  beyond  the  windows  rose  also,  from 
the  crotches  in  the  apple-tree,  and  took  their  migration  to  the  South. 

Mr.  Booth  repeated  Hood's  "  Bridge  of  Sighs,"  standing  at  his 
place  in  the  plain  low  room,  with  its  cheap  paint-grained  cupboards 
and  white  plaster ;  and  first  he  explained  that  it  was  the  story  of  a 
poor  girl  abandoned  by  her  lover,  and  found  self-drowned  in  the 
muddy  river. 

Bending  over  the  table,  as  over  the  drowned  one,  with  his  man- 
ful manner  and  serious  white  face,  the  actor  delivered  this,  his  favor- 
ite recitation,  with  a  fervor  and  pathos  that  drew  tears  and  sobs 
from  Katy ;  and,  between  the  stanzas,  Jake  Bosler  could  be  heard 
to  whinny,  and  to  say,  with  reference  either  to  temporal  or  everlast- 
ing things,  and  perhaps  both  : 

"  Temmerlich  !"  (pitiful).     "  Bi'm-by  ! — Bi'm-by  !  " 

Luther  Bosler  listened  with  a  drop  of  dew  in  his  eyes,  like  cloudy 
amethyst,  and  still  kept  his  judgment  upon  the  words ;  and  Nelly 
Harbaugh  came  around  and  leaned  on  him,  watching  Booth  with 
colder  emotion  : 

"  Fashioned  so  slenderly,  young  and  so  fair ! "  the  victim  of  love 
and  trust  betrayed  was  raised  in  dumb  show  by  the  actor,  and  all 
her  mutiny  and  disobedience,  her  dripping  clothes  like  cerements, 
and  water-oozing  lips,  her  past  dishonor  and  her  residue  of  what 
was  "pure  womanly,"  he  revealed  with  delicate  and  tender  respect. 

Then,  bending  over  his  plate,  Mr.  Booth  asked  in  intelligent 
wonderment,  solicitously : 

"■  Where  was  her  home  ? 
Who  was  her  father  ? 
Who  was  her  mother  ? 
Had  she  a  sister  ? 
Had  she  a  brother  ? 
Or  was  there  a  dearer  one 
Still,  and  a  nearer  one 
Yet,  than  all  other  ?  " 


NEW  FACES  JN    THE   VALLEY.  283 

Nobly  modulated,  punctuated  by  his  black-eyed  glances,  every 
pain  of  meaning  opened  wide  like  a  wound  held  open  till  it  could 
bleed,  the  poetry  stuck  in  every  throat  but  Booth's,  who  next  de- 
scended into  speculations  not  less  pathetic,  because  analyzing  to  the 
very  nerves  and  household  chords  the  causes  of  the  outcast's  sui- 
cide.    Her 

"  Feelings  had  changed — 

Love,  by  harsh  evidence, 

Thrown  from  its  eminence  ; 

Even  God's  providence 

Seeming  estranged. 

She  stood  with  amazement. 
Houseless  by  night — 

Swift  to  be  hurled — 
Anywhere,  anywhere 
Out  of  the  world  !  " 

Here,  rising  to  a  wail,  with  eyes  of  simulated  despair  and  arms  de- 
scribing the  fateful  leap  from  the  bridge's  parapet.  Booth  saw  Nelly 
Harbaugh,  without  a  tear  in  her  eyes,  gazing  at  him  in  rapture.  He 
knew  that  there  was  no  art  of  betraying  woman  like  reciting  with 
sympathy  woman's  betrayal,  but  this  fine  peasant-girl's  eyes  showed 
none  but  intellectual  sympathy  with  his  effort,  and  the  passion  to 
enact  like  him. 

He  changed  his  tactics  and  assumed  the  more  heroic  form  of 
recitation,  giving  his  robust  voice  and  chest  their  volume  and  power ; 
but  the  sense  in  her  warm,  blue  eyes  soon  reproved  this  exuber- 
ance, and  with  astonishment,  amid  his  corrected  cadences,  Booth 
discerned  in  this  cool  auditor  a  capable  and  unexcited  critic,  not  to 
be  affected  by  his  sentiment,  but  only  through  her  own  ambition. 
She  rose  in  his  respect  the  more,  though  now  he  saw  the  route  to 
her  weakness. 

"Yaw,  Katy,  take  her  sinds  to  her  Saviour,  ^<?ra  Heilond! — 
Bi'm-by ! "  Jake  Bosler  sobbed  at  the  conclusion,  drawing  his  little 
daughter  to  his  breast. 

"  Fader,  she  was  dead  in  te  water-brook  !  "  Katy  cried,  kissing 
him. 

"  Yaw,  my  child.  Proke  her  old  daudy's  heart  for  some  young 
city  man's,"  Jake  sighed,  "  and  couldn't  look  her  fader  in  te  face. 


284  JCATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Dat's  te  way  with  some  girls  up  dis-a-way.  Te  leeb,  te  courtin,'  is 
everyting,  till — Bi'm-by." 

"  This  is  a  gift  of  God,  right  used,"  Luther  Bosler  said  to  Mr, 
Booth,  as  he  took  his  whip  in  hand  and  the  team  came  to  the  door ; 
"  but  te  tears  we  pring  by  eloquence  must  not  pe  idle  tears  ;  for 
tears  should  come  from  deep,  pure  places,  Mr.  Booth.  As  I  go 
around  among  te  Tunkers  to  pray  at  pedsides,  where  te  old  ones 
die  and  te  pabes  are  bom,  I  feel  what  loads  of  sorrow  make  one 
tear. — Nelly,  you  shall  see  it  for  yourself  when  we  are  both  be- 
lievers !  " 

He  kissed  his  affianced  devoutly  ;  but  Booth  saw  that  something 
had  broken  Luther's  spell  over  her,  and  she  said  : 

"  Luther,  may  I  have  your  buggy  ?  Mr.  Booth  has  a  foolish  de- 
sire to  see  my  home." 

"  Oh,  surely,"  Luther  answered,  hospitably ;  "  anything  here, 
friends,  is  yours.     Pe  welcome  !  " 

As  Luther  Bosler  drove  southward  that  afternoon,  he  crossed 
the  great  blue  mountain  at  the  old  Sharpsburg  hauling-road,  at 
which  the  backbone  was  depressed,  and  left  Turner's  Gap  above  a 
mile  to  his  right,  where  the  National  road  found  an  almost  hidden 
clove  to  go  through.  In  the  wild  brush  and  pine-grown  gullies  of 
the  former  deserted  way  he  suddenly  came  upon  two  women  riding 
easy-r9.cking  mares. 

"  Whoa !  "  cried  Luther,  pulling  his  four  horses  in.  "  I  think  I 
know  you,  madam.  What  have  you  done  with  my  sister  Katy's  en- 
gagement-ring ?  " 

His  unerring  country  eye  had  seen,  through  her  Dunker  hood 
and  smock-frock,  the  stature  of  Hannah  Ritner. 

"  Ah,  Luther !  "  she  spoke,  with  frank  and  strong  articulation. 
— "  Come  here,  Light,  and  see  my  young  Dunker  pastor  !  Is  he  not 
a  handsome  bachelor.^  " 

"  A  Dunker  pastor !  And  so  fine-looking,  too  !  Perpetual  ro- 
mance, Hannah,  your  beautiful  mountains  hold  !  " 

Luther  looked  up  into  a  beautiful,  sincere,  attractive  child-wom- 
an's face.  He  did  not  remove  his  hat,  but  wondered  what  such  a 
lady,  in  plain,  long  riding-dress,  was  riding  through  these  lonely 
ways  for. 

"  You  had  no  right  to  take  my  sister's  gift,"  he  said  to  Hannah 
Ritner.     "  Its  loss  has  caused  her  innocent  credulity  tears.'" 

"  Luther,  it  was  Lloyd  Quantrell's  mother's  ring.     He  had  no 


N£IV  FACES  JN    THE   VALLEY.  285 

right  to  use  it  to  trifle  with  a  child.  I  took  it  to  his  father.  Let 
Katy  seek  it  there,  and  ask  for  Abel  Quantrell's  consent." 

"  Will  he  give  it  back,  Hannah  }  " 

"  I  keep  the  ring,"  spoke  Hannah  Ritner,  with  unconscious  au- 
sterity ;  "  I  did  not  ask  it,  but  it  has  become  mine.  When  Abel 
Quantrell  refuses  his  son  to  her,  let  Katy  come  to  me  at  the  nun- 
nery of  Snow  Hill." 

"  Very  well,  Hannah.  It  is  better  that  all  shall  pe  understood, 
and  there  pe  no  deceit." 

"The  old  German  spirit  is  in  these  hills,"  Light  Pittson  cried; 
"  the  ring  of  betrothal,  the  enchanted  maids,  the  bearded  men,  like 
Odin,  doing  justice !  Hannah,  tell  this  gentleman's  fortune  before 
we  go  to  Frederick,  and  you  send  me  back  to  papa  !  " 

The  weird  elder  woman  gazed  earnestly  in  Luther's  face,  and, 
obedient  to  Hannah  Ritner 's  command,  he  removed  his  wool  hat, 
and  looked  with  mild  pleasure  in  Light  Pittson's  ardent  eyes. 

Hannah  Ritner's  dark  orbs  roved  over  Luther's  countenance 
carefully ;  and  then,  with  eyes  closed  under  her  long  black  lashes, 
she  muttered  like  one  with  wits  scattered  and  evasive,  till  finally 
she  cried : 

"  Bosler,  do  not  see !     Be  blind  till  I  am  done." 

He  closed  his  eyes,  in  gallantry  more  than  interest,  and  soon  the 
low  sounds  pierced  his  ear  of  the  improvisatrice's  poetry,  sighed 
forth  with  passion : 

"  The  yellow  star  will  fade  some  morn — 
Yellow  tassels  leave  good  corn  ! 
Then  attend  the  bugle-horn, 

And  all  thy  merit  see  ! 
Though  in  the  church  they  censure  some, 
Pain  and  duty  keep  thee  dumb  : 
To  hollow  heart  the  hollow  drum 

Beats  peace  and  victory  !  " 

Luther  kept  his  eyes  closed,  waiting  for  Hannah  Ritner  to  speak 
again. 

When  he  opened  them,  he  was  alone  on  the  mountain  with  his 
wagon  and  horses,  and  the  two  female  apparitions  were  nowhere  in 
sight. 

"  Amen  !  "  sighed  Luther,  shaking  his  horses  up ;  "  if  Hannah 
raised  that  spirit  by  her  side,  it  was  a  lovely  one  !  " 


286  KATY  OF  CATOCTnV. 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

THE   ACTOR. 

Mr.  Booth  asked  Nelly  Harbaugh  if  she  would  not  prefer  horse- 
back-riding to  Luther  Bosler's  buggy  ;  and  there  being  only  one 
saddle,  though  horses  to  spare,  Nelly,  with  country  character, 
mounted  herself  on  a  folded  blanket  and  forced  Booth  to  take  the 
saddle  and  stirrups.  Leaving  Hugh  Fenwick  to  keep  Katy  com- 
pany, the  other  two  started  off  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  for  a 
ride  of  several  miles,  toward  the  upper  portion  of  the  Catoctin  Valley. 

They  passed  through  one  small  town,  and  then  crossed  between 
the  two  branches  of  Catoctin  Creek,  which  drained  the  opposite 
parallel  mountains  that  gradually  converged  and  pushed  the  hillocks 
between  them  higher  and  higher,  until,  at  Wolfsville,  a  clean  and 
tidy  village,  they  forded  the  clear  green  mountain-run  and  began  to 
ascend  a  steep  and  rugged  road,  nearly  on  the  mountain-plane. 

"  There  is  no  Maryland  place  north  of  us  now,"  said  Nelly  Har- 
baugh, "  but  one  little  store  and  old  tavern  at  the  edge  of  the  wil- 
derness, in  the  stone-heaps  of  Hunting  Creeks.  There  the  waters 
run  off  to  the  Monacacy  River  and  the  Antietam  through  the  gorges 
of  the  mountains,  and  the  people  are  woodsmen  and  berry-pickers. 
I  have  never  been  in  those  wilds." 

Booth  seemed  to  enjoy  the  increasing  loneliness  of  the  way.  He 
chose  parts  of  the  road  to  charge  his  horse  and  gallop  up  and  down 
the  steeps ;  and,  although  Nelly  rode  firmly  and  fearlessly,  she  was 
no  match  for  her  companion's  dashing  horsemanship,  and  soon  he 
drew  from  his  hip-pocket  a  revolving  pistol,  and  began  to  terrify  his 
steed  by  shooting  it  at  trees  and  stones  while  riding  at  full  speed. 

The  unsophisticated  horse,  finding  so  wild  a  rider  on  his  back, 
attempted  to  run  away ;  but  Booth  was  still  his  master,  and,  by 
mingled  skill  and  strength,  would  throw  the  animal's  head  out  of  its 
purpose  and  relation,  or  force  him  to  stumble  and  collect  himself  at 
the  sacrifice  of  his  fury.  Then,  with  the  rough,  honest  steed  all  cov- 
ered with  foam  and  trembling,  Booth  would  awaken  him  to  terror 
anew  by  firing  the  pistol  right  between  his  ears,  and  let  him  run  into 
exhaustion  again  and  check  him  as  before. 

The  horse  was  conquered  at  last,  but  not  composed  nor  quieted 
to  his  fitful  rider's  way. 


THE  ACTOR. 


287 


"  Please  do  not  misuse  Luther's  horse,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  said, 
catching  up.  "  His  horses  are  steady  as  himself,  and  some  of  the 
neighbors  may  see  and  report  us  to  him.  Don't  fire  that  pistol 
again  !     It  will  alarm  this  quiet  valley." 

"  I  was  merely  chasing  John  Brown  and  his  men,  experiment- 
ally," answered  Booth,  laughing.  "  I  dare  say,  too,  that  such  con- 
duct as  mine  would  not  reflect  credit  on  the  Dunker  preacher's  affi- 
anced ?  " 

"  I  am  watched  as  never  before.  So  is  Luther.  His  learning  is 
not  to  his  credit  in  his  sect,  which  regards  eloquence  and  fame  as 
evil  vanities,  and  his  intention  to  marry  me  is  already  the  subject  of 
their  muttered  talk." 

"  Perhaps  they  will  turn  him  out  of  the  church  }  " 

"  Oh,  if  they  only  would,  and  he  consent  to  it !  But  it  would 
ruin  his  peace,  and  that  I  could  not  see.  His  interest  in  that  church 
is  stronger  than  ever  now,  and  the  Dunkers,  I  fear,  will  never  trust 
me." 

"Why,  Nelly.?" 

"  Because  I  am  ambitious.  The  vanities  they  hate  are  life  and 
religion  to  me.  My  love  for  that  man  is  greater  than  everything, 
but  I  shall  marry  him  like  a  girl  entering  the  nunnery  on  account  of 
her  love." 

"  O  Nelly  !  "  cried  Booth,  "  he  never  could  shine  in  any  other 
world.     You  can  !  " 

"  But  to  shine  and  have  no  heart  left :  that  is  just  as  bad ! 
Luther  Bosler  is  a  great  man.  He  sees  everything  for  himself.  He 
loved  me  with  slow,  steady  strength  till  the  quiet  time  came  to  de- 
clare it,  and,  ever  since,  I  have  been  a  child  before  him,  yielding  up 
everything.  I  am  to  be  baptized,  to  put  away  my  bright  clothes, 
and  become  the  example  of  people  who  will  not  have  a  musical  in- 
strument in  their  houses,  nor  even  hear  Katy  Bosler's  accordion 
without  dislike." 

"  Oh,  shame  !  It  would  be  ingratitude  to  God.  The  best  fami- 
lies in  this  valley  are  not  your  superiors.  Look  at  that  profile— that 
upturned  eye  like  Medea's  accusing  the  Fates,  the  eagle  curve  of  the 
nose,  and  the  strong,  placid  mouth  that  could  speak  one's  doom  as 
quietly  as  the  Empress  Catharine  on  the  Russian  throne  !  No 
wonder,  my  great  girl,  you  have  some  aspirations  beyond  a  Dunker 
meeting-house  ! " 

He  saw  her  countenance  flush  to  this  praise,  and,  riding  by  her 


288  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

side,  had  put  his  hand  upon  her  chin,  to  give  her  profile  the  proper 
hnes. 

"  I  love  praise,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh,  hardly  repulsing  his  hand. 
"  I  believe  all  you  say,  though  I  don't  know  who  the  people  are  you 
compare  me  to.  If  my  Luther  would  only  speak  to  me  like  that,  I 
could  fall  ofif  this  horse  in  the  dust  and  worship  him." 

"  Oh,  cutting  compliment,  Nelly  !  To  be  compared  to  a  fanatic 
like  that !     Are  you  an  abolitionist,  too  }  " 

"  No.  I  have  no  politics.  Negroes  I  look  upon  hke  all  us  poor 
whites — with  dislike.  Luther's  views  on  this  and  many  subjects  I 
do  not  understand.  Please  take  your  hand  down  from  my  neck, 
sir !  But  if  Luther  Bosler  was  to  compliment  me  I  should  feel  that 
love  and  justice  had  crowned  me,  like  religion  itself.    He  is  so  much 


man 


t  " 


Booth  drew  his  hand  away  from  Nelly  somewhat  testily,  but 
interested  in  this  girl  with  all  the  zest  of  a  hunter  of  fierce  animals. 
"You  don't  think  me  of  a  man's  growth,  then .''  " 
"  You  interest  me  very  much.  You  are  a  handsome  man,  I 
never  saw  a  more  agreeable  and  distinguished  young  gentleman. 
Once  in  my  life  I  went  to  the  theatre,  and  never  since  have  I  for- 
gotten anything  in  the  performance.  To  have  an  actor  for  a  friend 
seems  wonderful  to  me — so  wonderful  that  I  can't  find  composure 
to  flatter  you.  You  are  not  settled,  like  Luther.  He  never  would 
ride  a  horse  furiously  for  no  purpose  at  all.  Therefore,  when  he 
says,  '  Love  me,'  it  is  like  the  command  in  the  Scriptures — the  voice 
of  his  natural,  undivided  heart." 

"  How  do  you  know  my  heart  has  ever  been  occupied  before  ?  " 
"It  may  never  be  fully  occupied  hereafter,"  Nelly  answered; 
"  the  heart  adapted  for  love  has  the  sound  of  love  before  love  enters 
in  it.  Many  a  voice  has  uttered  love  to  me,  and  I  know  all  the 
tones.  Lloyd  Quantrell  is  in  love :  he  talks  to  Katy  in  love's  trem- 
ble. You  make  me  like  you  by  the  self-love  you  start  in  me  ;  Luther 
draws  me  to  him  by  his  full-grown  character." 

"  What  has  he  got  to  recommend  him  in  any  worldly  view  ?  " 
"  Substantial  property — farms,  horses,  standing  in  his  county, 
a  whole  sect  at  his  back,  a  gentle,  steady  nature,  relatives  over  a 
wide  country— all   that   a  poor  girl   here  wants,  and   more   than 
enough." 

Booth  listened  with  an  affable  countenance  whose  very  politeness 
exasperated  the  woman  engaged  to  share  these  benefits. 


THE  ACTOR. 


289 


"  Are  you  rich  ?  "  she  demanded. 

He  started,  as  if  not  quite  prepared  for  the  question. 

"  How  much  land  \i2M^you  got,  sir.?  " 

"  Not  an  acre." 

"  Have  you  any  city  houses,  or  bonds,  or  stocks,  or  insurance,  or 
even  furniture .?  " 

"  Not  yet,  Nelly." 

"  Your  friend  Lloyd  says  that  actors  spend  everything  upon  their 
own  vanity  and  appetites.  I  hope  you  don't.  And  yet  you  rode 
Luther's  horse  like  a  man  who  never  owned  his  own  horse." 

"  I  possess  no  horse,"  admitted  Booth  ;  "  I  am  only  beginning." 

"  There's  Katy  Bosler ;  her  daddy  will  give  her  a  farm  and  stock. 
And  here,  sir,  is  my  farm.  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it,  because  it  is 
everything  I  have  got,  and  every  weed  in  it  seems  dear  to  me." 

A  capacity  she  had  for  rapid  fluctuations  of  feeling  was  instanced 
in  this  turn  from  challenge  to  sensibility,  and  her  throat  filled  up 
with  emotion  as  she  pulled  her  horse  toward  him  at  her  own  gate, 
and  pleaded  : 

"  You  won't  despise  my  little  home,  John  }  " 

"  With  you,  Nelly,  it  would  be  fair  Rosamond's  bower." 

She  leaned  forward  in  gratitude  and  apprehension,  as  if  she 
knew  no  other  way,  and  kissed  him  welcome. 

Nelly's  place  was  a  patch  of  ground  a  few  acres  in  extent  on  the 
foreland  of  a  high,  sliding  knoll,  with  a  queer,  low,  rough-plastered 
house  set  at  a  spot  where  she  could  look  off  into  the  far  distance  at 
the  diverging  mountain-walls  of  the  Catoctin  Valley ;  and  the  spire 
of  Wolfsville  Lutheran  church  was  just  visible  over  the  nearer  hills, 
while  underneath  her  wild  perch  the  ravines  yawned  full  of  rocks  ; 
and  beyond  them  the  Catoctin  Mountain  was  piled  up  in  lonesome 
walls  of  woods  just  feeling  the  teeth  of  autumn.  Some  great  rocks 
still  stood  like  shepherd-dogs  above  the  well-picked  fields ;  a  cow- 
bell tinkled  in  the  unknown  bottoms ;  a  dog  ran  out,  half  civil,  and 
watched  Booth  fiercely. 

"  Who  lives  here  besides  you,  Nelly .''  " 

"  Not  one.  My  mother  died  a  year  ago,  and  is  buried  by  that 
church-steeple." 

"Your  father  ?  " 

"  He  is  dead,  or  gone.  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  so  that  you  can 
ask  no  further :  He  was  a  sergeant  in  the  regular  army,  who  came 
to  Frederick  recruiting  before  the  Mexican  War,  and  married  my 
13 


290  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

mother.  He  said  one  day,  -vvhen  I  was  a  little  thing,  that  he  must 
go  see  his  kin  in  the  North,  and  he  never  came  back.  Mother  took 
her  old  family  name  again,  and  I  built  her  this  home.    Come  in  it !" 

The  structure  was  simple,  of  refuse  lumber,  but  made  neat  by 
vines,  pots  of  flowers,  an  arbor,  rude  fences,  and  stone  walls. 

"  I  plastered  this  house  myself,"  Nelly  said,  "  A  beau  of  mine 
lent  me  the  tools.  I  hauled  the  lime  in  a  borrowed  wagon.  The 
cow-hair  a  love-sick  butcher  gave  me.  Luther  Bosler  brought  me 
the  lath.    I  sifted  the  sand  from  a  gully;  and  so  I  kept  out  the  cold." 

There  were  pictures  on  the  wall,  taken  generally  from  labels  of 
cotton  prints  or  from  illustrated  newspapers. 

"  There,"  cried  Nelly,  "  is  evidence  to  you,  John  "—she  had  fallen 
easily  at  her  own  home  into  this  familiar  address — "  that  I  always 
loved  the  actors  !  " 

It  was  a  show-poster  in  colors,  representing  a  fine  blonde  female, 
and  entitled  "  Laura  Keene,  in  '  The  American  Cousin.'  " 

"  This  seems  to  be  good  land,  Nelly  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  stone-heap  when  I  came  here.  While  others  picked 
berries  I  and  mother  picked  stones,  from  week  to  week  and  from 
year  to  year.  Sometimes  I  would  pet  a  susceptible  farmer  to  come 
with  his  team  and  chain  of  an  evening  and  pull  out  a  few  big  rocks. 
I  live  here  all  alone ;  do  you  wonder  that  Luther  Bosler  is  a  rich 
man  to  me  .>  " 

He  flattered  her  less,  because  he  began  to  feel  that  she  had  self- 
reliance  as  he  had  seldom  heard  of  it  in  a  worldly  woman. 

"  Do  you  not  require  help  for  some  things  ?  "  he  asked  ;  "  some 
things  disagreeable  to  women  ?  " 

"  I  had  to  do  without  it.  Winter  was  before  me,  and  I  made 
ready  to  butcher  myself,  for  bacon  and  ham  do  not  grow ;  but  a 
neighbor  relieved  me  of  the  killing.  I  have  tended  my  cow,  and 
been  its  only  doctor  at  calving  ;  and  have  run  the  .plow  in  my  field 
rather  than  incur  the  obligation  of  a  lover.  In  this  exposed  place 
one  has  to  be  careful  about  multiplying  fquals.  Dangerous  men 
might  get  access  here  through  my  indiscretion—."  • 

"  If  they  did—  ?  "  said  Booth. 

"  I  should  then  shoot  off  my  pistol,  too  ;  but  powder  and  shot  are 
dear." 

She  drew  down  an  old  single-barrel  gun  from  above  the  door, 
and  raised  it  to  her  shoulder  with  a  flash  of  the  eye  that  took  sight 
at  the  lock  like  yellow  fire. 


THE  ACTOR. 


291 


"This  was  all  my  father  left  my  mother,"  Nelly  said.  "More 
than  once  I  have  taken  it  down  to  kill  an  insolent  man,  and  marched 
him  past  my  gate  I  " 

"Great  God!"  exclaimed  Booth,  watching  her  thoughtfully; 
"  the  women  of  Daniel  Boone  were  no  greater.  Nelly,  I  came  here 
with  you  for  pleasure  only.  I  know  that  I  can  not  deceive  you. 
You  are  a  revelation  to  me  of  wonder  and  of  wealth,  and  you  have 
reason  to  love  old  John  Brown  that  he  invaded  your  country  and 
brought  me  to  your  side — yes,  Miss  Nelly  Harbaugh,  to  your  feet ! " 

He  had  taken  her  hands  in  his,  and  he  knelt  before  her,  doing 
homage,  with  an  actor's  cleverness,  to  a  playing  queen.  She  watched 
his  manner,  or  actor's  "  business,"  with  serious  rapture. 

"  Not  one  point  am  I  richer  than  you  in,"  continued  Booth,  softly 
and  soothingly.  "  This  little  land  you  possess  is  more  than  I  have 
saved — more  shame  to  me  that  it  is  so,  for  I  have  been  better  sala- 
ried than  my  superiors  these  two  years  !  With  strong  body  and 
willful  tastes  I  have  followed  pleasure  and  been  a  spendthrift,  know- 
ing no  woman  of  kindred  ambition  to  lead  me  forward  by  love  and 
emulation  in  my  profession.  I  have  found  that  woman.  I  can  give 
you.  Miss  Nelly  Harbaugh.  the  one  chance  of  a  hundred  years  on 
the  stage  my  father's  name  is  still  our  passport  to  ! " 

She  looked  at  him  severely,  sadly,  but  with  a  longing,  and  her 
eyes  roved  through  her  lowly  window  to  the  sun  retiring  over  the 
South  Mountain  and  flooding  the  haze  of  the  valley  with  golden 
cloud. 

"  Get  up,"  she  said,  "  and  let  me  set  you  some  supper.  I  am  not 
to  be  taken  by  surprise." 

He  saw  her  take  down  her  father's  fowling-piece,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment he  was  frightened,  as  he  considered  her  positive  and  hardening 
face,  all  strong  in  nervous  reflection. 

"  Perhaps,"  thought  Booth,  "  she  is  going  to  spurn  the  tempta- 
tion, and  march  me  to  the  gate  with  that  gun  !  " 

She  set  before  him  an  earthen  jug  of  Bosler's  whisky  and  clear 
water  from  her  spring,  and  lighted  her  fire  at  the  oven.  He  fol- 
lowed her  out  and  began  to  cut  some  wood  for  the  oven,  and  he 
soon  heard  her  gun  discharged  in  her  buckwheat  patch,  and  she  re- 
appeared with  a  partridge. 

"  Why,  Nelly,"  he  cried,  assisting  her  at  the  fire,  "  these  seem  to 
be  brook-trout  frying  !  " 

"  They  are.     An  old  lover  of  mine  has  been  fishing  to-day  in 


202  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN, 

Little  Hunting  Creek,  and  his  devotion  comes  in  time  for  you.  Since 
Brown's  raid  nobody  much  in  Catoctin  Valley  has  worked." 

She  observed  that  a  single  glass  of  the  liquor  changed  his  tem- 
perament, and  made  him  less  considerate  and  less  gently  negative. 

"  You  are  not  ignorant  of  farm-life,  I  see,"  Nelly  remarked,  as 
Booth  ate  heartily  of  the  trout  and  baked  bird. 

"  I  should  think  not.  Every  child  of  my  father  was  born  on  a 
Maryland  farm,  and  he  had  a  morbid  dread  for  years  of  our  going 
to  the  cities  or  the  theatres.  It  was  thirty-seven  years  ago,  when 
he  had  been  only  a  year  in  America,  and  was  hardly  older  than  I 
am  now — for  he  had  gone  upon  the  stage  at  eighteen — that  he 
bought  a  wild  patch  of  ground  hke  yours,  and  put  my  patient  mother 
upon  it.  For  company  for  her  he  brought  out  his  penniless  old 
father,  a  graduate  of  the  radical  spout-shops  of  London.  What  a 
place  for  two  people  who  had  lived  abreast  of  Napoleon  and  Wel- 
lington in  the  greatest  city  of  the  world  !  The  rank  woods  grew 
around  us,  full  of  wild  animals  and  poisonous  snakes.  The  nearest 
town  was  a  rude  court-house  place,  and  there  we  went  to  school 
three  miles  and  back  of  a  day,  while  father  roved  all  over  the  country 
acting  till  he  would  be  discharged,  or  wander  away  disgusted  ;  and 
then  he  came  home  to  turn  the  satyr  side  of  his  nature  upon  us.  He 
had  a  dread  of  final  poverty,  and  if  we  wanted  money  we  had  to 
work  for  it.  So  I  have  planted  corn  for  three  levies  a  day,  and 
picked  stone  off  the  neighbors'  fields  for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,  my  friend.  Then  you  know  what  humil- 
ity is  }  " 

She  reached  out  her  hand  to  shake  his  with  sympathy. 

"  No,  Nelly.  Humility  only  our  mother  knew.  We  had  derived 
a  terrible  ambition  from  that  seedy  old  ruined  grandfather,  who 
claimed  relationship  with  a  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  for  whom  I  am 
namesake — John  Wilkes  !  One  by  one  we  departed,  all  for  the  same 
assertive  vocation.     I  was  the  last." 

He  had  retained  her  hand,  and,  holding  it  warmly,  concluded : 

"  I  can  feel  for  you,  my  girl !  and  the  bright  spirit  of  art  has  sent 
me  to  break  the  spell  that  walls  your  beauty  in  with  these  dragon 
mountains.  Think  of  these  fair,  long  hands,  whose  silver  sinews 
Apollo  might  have  driven  the  stallions  of  yonder  setting  sun  with, 
growing  misshapen  and  warty  at  the  plow  and  the  hoe,  when 
Heaven  intended  them  for  rings  of  precious  stones,  and  to  be  kissed 
by  merchant  princes  kneeling  for  your  regard !  " 


THE  ACTOR.  293 

He  kissed  her  hand,  but  she  asked  with  a  still,  steady  voice,  amid 
her  flushing: 

"  What  were  you  paid  when  you  became  an  actor  first  ?  " 

"  My  father  wandered  off  and  died  seven  years  ago  upon  a  West- 
em  river.  I  was  the  only  son  at  home,  in  Baltimore,  and  tired  of 
school  and  dependence ;  so  my  brother-in-law,  a  manager,  gave  me 
eight  dollars  a  week  to  act  small  parts  in  Philadelphia.  I  despised 
such  employment,  and  a  Virginia  manager  next  offered  me  three 
times  that  salary,  and  in  Richmond  I  have  become  a  great  favorite. 
This  volunteering  I  have  done,  to  defend  Virginia,  has  made  me  a 
hero  in  the  South.     Look,  Nelly,  at  these  newspaper  clippings  ! " 

With  a  nervous  avarice  of  praise  he  read  to  her,  in  an  accentuated, 
professional  style,  the  unqualified  fulsomeness  of  Southern  writing  in 
the  provincial  days  of  State  rights  :  "  The  gallant  Booth,"  "  The  suc- 
cessor of  Brutus  in  name  and  deed,"  "  The  South's  defender,"  "  Vir- 
ginia's champion,"  etc. 

Soldiering  had  not  been  required  for  so  long  in  America  that 
Brown's  raid  had  obtained  all  the  importance  of  a  war,  and  every 
private  in  it  received  the  notoriety  of  a  general,  while  a  Marylander 
volunteering  in  aid  of  invaded  Virginia,  seemed  in  the  strained  State 
"  sovereignty  "  distinctions  of  those  times  like  Lafayette  assisting 
another  country. 

"  Mark  me,  Nelly  !  "  declaimed  Booth,  feeding  his  excitement  at 
the  whisk\'-glass — "  this  coming  of  mine  to  Charlestown,  with  the 
devotion  of  a  patriot,  makes  my  fortune  as  an  actor  !  " 

"  You  mean  in  the  South  }  " 

"  In  the  South  and  the  West,  too,  for  half  the  West  is  Southern. 
We  are  three  brothers,  and  we  are  to  divide  our  father's  raiment  by 
taking  his  name  in  three  great  sections  separately — ^Junius  on  the 
Pacific,  Edwin  in  the  North,  and  I  am  to  have  the  cotton  States  and 
the  Mississippi  Valley.  It  makes  no  difference  whether  I  act  good 
or  bad,  since  I  have  joined  the  forces  against  John  Brown,  and  am 
become  a  Virginian.  I  shall  be  a  '  star '  next  year,  traveling  with 
my  own  manager  and  company.  Now  I  am  only  '  Mr,  John  Wilkes  ' 
on  the  bills,  but  then  I  shall  be  '  Mr.  Booth,  the  tragedian,"  and  half 
the  receipts  will  be  my  share.  I  shall  make  twenty  thousand  dollars 
m  three  months  !  " 

"  My  Lord  !  "  exclaimed  Nelly  Harbaugh,  "  what  can  you  do  with 
the  money.?  " 

"Give  it,"  replied  Booth,  "to  the  woman  I  love,  and  whom  I 


204  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

will  make  my  leading  lady— to  pay  her  a  salary  worthy  of  her 
beauty,  and  to  encourage  her  talent  by  noble  dressing  and  cultiva- 
tion." 

"  To  me  ?  "  she  cried.     "  I  won't  believe  you  !  " 

"  No,  the  surprise  is  too  great,  my  honest  girl.  You  have  set 
your  mind  no  higher  than  keeping  a  Dunker  farmer's  milk-cans,  and 
can  not  grasp  the  sum  of  your  value  to  me." 

The  girl's  eyes  sought  her  father's  gun  above  the  door  with  weak 
temper,  and  she  started  from  her  seat  at  the  table  and  retreated  from 
Booth. 

"  I  was  prepared  to  be  flattered  by  you,"  she  exclaimed,  trem- 
bling. "  I  thought  I  was  armed  against  you  everywhere.  Why 
can  you  tempt  me  like  that  ?  If  I  am  strong  and  alone,  I  am  only 
a  woman." 

A  flood  of  actual  tears  came  out  upon  the  bursting  of  a  sob.  He 
endeavored  to  break  this  instant  of  weakness  upon  his  compassion- 
ate breast,  but  her  arms  were  thrown  outward,  instinctive  as  her 
cry,  to  ward  him  off. 

"  Where  is  my  man  ? "  she  moaned,  laying  her  golden-tinted 
neck  and  unbound  wave  of  hair  upon  the  clay  chimney-place ;  "  the 
man  I  am  promised  to,  and  who  should  be  my  shepherd  now  when 
I  am  asked  to  stray  from  the  fold  ?  Gone,  and  I  am  left  with  a 
beautiful  devil  and  this  temptation  !  " 

"  Pardon  me ! "  said  Booth,  also  rising.  "  Your  ingratitude 
wounds  me,  too.  I  thought  -I  interpreted  your  wishes,  or  I  would 
not  have  expressed  my  own.  Your  sensibility,  Nelly,  convinces  me 
the  more  that  you  can  reform  the  evil  in  me,  and  make  me  a  man. 
Young  as  I  am,  a  woman's  influence  is  already  my  necessity.  If  not 
as  an  artist,  help  me  as  a  wife  !  " 

He  took  the  old  gun  from  the  place  above  the  door,  and  walked 
out  into  the  fields  noiselessly,  but  she  knew  that  he  was  gone. 

Her  dog  was  growhng  suspiciously  to  see  her  cry,  when  she 
looked  up,  and  she  walked  to  her  cheap,  gilt  looking-glass,  and  took 
it  from  its  peg  and  sat  with  it,  under  her  arbor,  looking  alternately 
at  her  great,  reddened,  expressive  blue  eyes  and  at  the  falling  of 
sunset  upon  the  receding  billows  of  the  Catoctin  Valley. 

She  had  lost  the  joy  of  this  home,  the  humble  monument  of  her 
hands,  and  lost,  also,  the  solace  of  her  marriage  engagement,  so 
dearly  invited  and  full  of  sacred  whisperings — mutuality,  trust,  chil- 
dren, worship,  and  widening  good  name ;  the  opportunity  of  charity. 


THE  ACTOR. 


295 


the  manna  of  improvement,  the  self-respect  the  world  can  not  take 
away.  A  superficial  man,  full  of  strong  will,  hardly  her  senior  in 
years,  and  unscrupulous  in  friendship,  had  crossed  the  gentle  vista 
of  her  domestic  settlement  Hke  the  shadow  of  a  croaking  crow  she 
saw  go  across  her  white  buckwheat-blossoms — a  winged  appetite. 
With  superstitious  memory  she  recalled  the  fortune-teller's  Unes : 

"  Something  dark  and  white  I  mark, 
It  shall  mark  thee  with  the  dark  ! " 

She  heard  the  gun  of  Booth  go  off,  and  the  crow  dropped  out  of  his 
driving  career,  hmp  and  nondescript. 

Deeper  helplessness  settled  upon  her  as  she  thought  how  her 
ver}'  thoughts  were  countered  by  this  stranger's  casualty. 

Glancing  at  her  looking-glass,  something  of  her  mother's  piteous 
expression  there,  whom  she  had  seen  so  often  cry  at  Nelly's  way- 
wardness, brought  real  tears  again ;  this  time  she  let  them  come 
hke  steam  from  the  scalding  kettle,  grateful  with  relief. 

That  mother,  the  flower  of  the  valley,  culled  by  a  bold,  effusive 
stranger,  and  briefly  worn  with  a  devotion  above  constancy,  had 
died  with  one  faith  and  prayer  alone — the  preservation  of  her  child's 
pure  soul  in  wifely  custody  to  some  native,  unranging  man.  Her 
prayers  were  now  answered,  for  Luther  Bosler  had  been  that  moth- 
er's choice,  though  she  might  never  knew  his  and  Heaven's  conde- 
scension in  this  world. 

"  Oh,  speak,  mother  !  "  the  soldier's  orphan  sighed  ;  "  let  Nature 
somewhere  break  this  chain  that  drags  me  down  like  the  hewed  tree 
to  the  mill  in  the  valley !  I  feel  the  high  wheels  take  me  down  ;  I 
hear  the  saw  scream  for  me  in  the  long  coffin  of  the  saw-mill ;  my 
body  is  on  the  trundle,  and  I  am  going  forward  in  the  grooves.  Oh, 
pray— pray — pray  !  " 

Booth  heard  these  words,  and  they  made  him  superstitious. 
Thrice  in  that  way  had  his  father  spoken  when  he  died,  a  poor,  old, 
lonely  man  in  the  state-room  of  a  Western  steamboat,  saying  with 
strangling  breath,  "  Pray — pray — pray  !  " 

The  son  felt  the  admonition  of  conscience,  and  he  answered 
Nelly's  prayer : 

"  I  withdraw  my  offer,  Nelly.     You  are  too  good  a  giri." 

"  What  ?  "  She  had  arisen  from  her  struggle,  like  one  made  the 
subject  of  a  miracle. 

"  This  independence  you  live  in,  is  better  than  the  dependence 


296 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


and  uncertainty  of  the  stage.  The  man  you  have  promised  is  better 
for  you  than  I  could  be.    Come,  be  my  friend,  and  God  bless  you  ! " 

His  better  nature  had  prevailed  ;  the  game  had  vexed  him,  and 
he  abandoned  it. 

"  O  John  !  I  will  always  be  your  friend,  for  now  I  see  the  white- 
ness and  the  darkness  fall  apart  in  your  nature." 

With  friendship  made  up  of  gratitude  and  relief,  she  took  him 
in  her  arms  hke  a  brother  long  wished  for,  and  on  her  ardent  kiss 
the  gypsy  in  his  blood  flamed  in  an  instant  again.  He  reached  for 
the  jug  of  whisky,  but  she  interposed  : 

"  Oh,  do  not  drink  again  !     It  changes  your  nature  so." 

"  You  know  me  already,"  spoke  Booth.  "  What  an  angel  you 
can  be,  throwing  worldly  ambition  away !  It  was  not  made  for 
woman." 

"  I  confess  that  sin,  John.     Am  I  cured  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  never  would  have  robbed  you  of  this  independence,  Nelly. 
It  is  the  dream  of  my  own  life  to  stand  above  and  away  from  vulgar 
contact.  If  I  had  made  you  my  pupil,  I  would  not  have  advanced 
you  beyond  your  growth.  First  I  would  have  put  you  in  the  chorus, 
and  let  you  find  your  own  level.  Your  courage  and  perseverance 
would  have  brought  you  out." 

Again  her  imagination  hearkened  to  the  revelations  of  that  glit- 
tering mimic  world,  but  he  had  assuaged  her  fears.  She  listened 
to  him  now  without  suspicion,  since  he  had  redeemed  himself.  He 
talked  long  and  sensibly,  with  jnost  instructive  mznuizcs  of  informa- 
tion about  the  chances  and  rewards  of  actress-life. 

"  W^hy,  Nelly,"  he  cried  at  last,  "  it  is  past  eight  o'clock.  You 
must  not  be  compromised  by  staying  alone  with  me  in  this  house. 
To  horse,  my  Dunker  cavalier !  " 

As  they  stood  in  her  little  stable  together,  making  the  horses 
ready,  he  murmured,  taking  her  hand  : 

"  Am  I  trusted  }  " 

"  Always." 

"Then  you  can  kiss  me." 

"  This  is  the  last,  dear  John." 

It  was  late  when  they  reached  Bosler's  farm,  and  the  great  dog 
Fritz  being  absent  there,  no  barking  announced  them.  They  put 
the  horses  in  the  stable  quietly,  and,  guided  back  to  the  house  by  a 
candle  in  a  window,  paused  there  to  look  within. 

Katy  was  asleep,  with  her  accordion  still  in  her  hands. 


JOHN  BROWN  EXECUTED.  297 

Gazing  down  at  her,  with  his  Catholic  breviary  in  his  lap,  Hugh 
Fenwick  looked  in  more  than  image-worship. 

The  spotted  pointer,  Albion,  took  in  the  scene  with  one  eye,  as 
consonantly  mischievous  with  his  own  general  intentions. 

"  My  gracious  !  "  cried  Katy.  as  the  door  opened  and  the  dog 
snapped  ;  "  is  it  you,  Nelly  }  Why,  I  dreamed  you  had  pecome  an 
actor  at  te  teatre." 

Jake  Bosler,  too,  had  been  aroused,  and  his  shaggy  hair  and 
beard  were  seen  at  the  stairway-door,  and  he  remarked  : 

"  Soun-up.     Bi'm~by  !  " 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

JOHN    BROWN    EXECUTED. 

A  WARM  Friday  within  the  brink  of  December — like  the  climate 
of  the  better  world  let  down  to  temper  an  old  man's  winter — saw 
the  lean,  long  body  of  John  Brown  turning,  with  the  breezes  from 
the  Shenandoah,  at  the  end  of  a  cord. 

There  hung  the  unprefaced  one,  amid  two  thousand  soldiers,  the 
captain  of  the  greatest  episode  in  time. 

The  gallows-tree  was  framed  about  with  lines  of  chivalr)' ;  but 
something  odd,  and  moral,  and  pitiful,  hung  there  on  a  hempen 
string,  which  made  the  imposing  military  display  seem  moderate, 
and  no  volunteer  in  it  felt  the  occasion  not  to  be  dignified. 

Nearest  the  gallows  was  the  company  in  which  stood  to  his 
musket  John  Wilkes  Booth — stem,  handsome,  and  classical.  Quan- 
trell  was  a  substitute  in  a  more  distant  command  ;  John  Yates  Beall 
was  also  in  the  gay-vestured  field — each  of  these  young  men  taking 
a  lot  in  the  old  man's  bloody  raiment,  here  raffled  in  the  chief  gate- 
way to  the  slave  States. 

It  was  the  dress  rehearsal  of  the  mightiest  war  since  the  courts 
of  Europe  had  repressed  and  imbibed  republicanism. 

Stuart  and  Lee,  Wise  and  Vallandigham,  had  rehearsed  at  the 
old  man's  capture.  Stonewall  Jackson  at  the  head  of  his  school  of 
cadets,  Turner  Ashby  commanding  the  pickets,  Israel  Green,  the 
marine-officer  who  had  cut  John  Brown  down,  and  Jeff  Thomp- 
son from  far-off  Missouri,  were  some  of  the  pawns  at  the  scaffold. 


298 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


The  gray  uniforms  from  Richmond,  the  light  blue  from  Alexandria, 
the  buff  and  yellow  from  Winchester,  and  the  crimson  from  Appo- 
mattox, stood  in  the  great  hollow  square  of  troops,  to  which  the 
militia  from  Petersburg  had  guarded  this  one  old  man  from  jail,  as 
he  rode  upon  his  coffin.  The  guidon-flags  to  designate  the  posi- 
tions these  and  others  were  to  take,  prophesied  the  name,  also,  on 
each,  of  some  unborn  battle. 

No  gambler  ever  paid  the  odds  of  life  which  these  neighborhoods 
paid  John  Brown — a  thousand,  at  least,  to  one.  No  Valkyria  of  Odin 
and  the  Northern  gods  ever  marked  more  surely  the  sites  of  devas- 
tation :  Gettysburg,  Chambersburg,  Hagerstown,  Winchester,  Rich- 
mond, Knoxville,  and  Chattanooga,  had  all  been  spied  out  for  the 
strategy  that  John  Brown  appeared  at  this  moment  to  have  brought 
to  such  a  small  and  personal  conclusion. 

Short  had  been  his  shrift — tried  in  seven  days,  sentenced  in  six 
days  more,  executed  in  another  month — not  seven  weeks  in  all ;  but 
in  that  time  he  rounded  life. with  the  accuracy  and  completeness  of 
a  comet  predicted  and  fulfilled.  His  foolishness  ended  at  his  taking, 
and  his  greatness  began  in  his  failure.  The  letters  he  answered, 
the  speech  he  made  in  court,  his  consistency  and  simplicity,  had  a 
moral  influence  feebly  prefigured  by  the  reckless  Samson  puUing  the 
heathen  temple  down.  Of  Samson  had  remained  only  strength  ;  of 
Brown,  no  strength — only  testimony. 

The  abolitionist — that  unseen  terror— had  at  last  been  captured 
and  displayed  in  the  slave  States,  and  probably  the  only  perfect 
specimen.  Nearly  every  one  of  the  same  genus  who  had  been  pri\7 
to  his  plans  retreated  from  the  responsibility,  and  left  him  on  the 
enemy's  side,  a  deadly  hostage,  subtle  as  wisdom  itself. 

Quantrell,  Booth,  and  Beall,  the  youthful  trio  we  are  to  carry 
through  our  narrative,  all  heard  John  Brown  when  he  rose  in  court 
to  answer  why  sentence  should  not  be  passed  upon  him. 

His  head  still  ringing  with  sword-strokes,  and  his  side  and  kid- 
neys wounded,  he  was  able,  by  long  absorption  of  his  theme,  to 
preach  upon  it  without  preparation,  and  to  the  most  modest  and  won- 
drous effect. 

He  rose  from  his  blanket  and  cot,  like  Lazarus  from  the  dead, 
all  bandaged  and  feeble,  and  said  that  he  had  come  to  Virginia  to 
set  free  slaves  : 

"  Had  I  so  interfered  in  behalf  of  the  rich,  the  powerful,  the  in- 
telligent, the  so-called  great,"  said  John  Brown,  "  and  suffered  and 


JOHN  BROWN  EXECUTED.  299 

sacrificed  what  I  have  in  this  interference,  it  would  have  been  all 
right,  and  every  man  in  this  court  would  have  deemed  it  an  act 
worthy  of  reward  rather  than  punishment." 

His  tones  were  almost  hesitating,  and  therefore  the  quiet  mean- 
ing felt  its  way  along  the  heart-strings  as  art  could  never  do.  Glanc- 
ing, in  need  of  an  idea,  at  the  little  Bible  by  the  judge,  the  old  man, 
touching  sixty  years  of  age  and  looking  seventy,  raised  his  mighty 
plaint  again : 

"  I  see  a  book  kissed  in  this  court  which  I  suppose  to  be  the 
New  Testament,  which  teaches  me  that  all  things  whatsoever  I 
would  that  men  should  do  to  me  I  should  do  even  so  to  them.  It 
teaches  me  further  to  remember  them  that  are  in  bonds  as  bound 
with  them.  I  endeavored  to  act  up  to  that  instruction ;  for  I  am 
yet  too  young  to  understand  that  God  is  any  respecter  of  persons. 
I  believe  that  to  have  interfered,  as  I  have  done,  in  behalf  of  his 
despised  poor,  is  no  wrong,  but  right." 

Those  high  words  had  been  a  felony  spoken  anywhere  in  Vir- 
ginia except  in  court,  and  for  the  first  time  in  thirty  years  they  were 
now  legally  proclaimed.  The  judge  was  presiding  at  an  abolition 
meeting,  and  was  powerless  to  arrest  an  orator  who  came  shod  in 
the  supernal  light  of  martyrdom.  Poor  men  without  slaves  heard  the 
gospel  where  no  misinterpretation  could  distort  the  preacher's  na- 
ture, and  the  great  slaveholders  would  feign  have  cried  out  in  chagrin, 
as  in  a  noble  poem,  contemporary  with  John  Brown,  "  Hadst  thou 
sought  the  whole  State  over,  there  was  no  one  place  so  secret — no 
high  place  nor  lowly  place  where  thou  couldst  have  escaped  me — 
save  on  thfs  very  scaffold."  * 

He  continued,  and  they  felt  it  was  a  gentleman  who  now  spoke, 
whatever  he  may  have  been  before  : 

"  Now,  if  it  is  deemed  necessary  that  I  should  forfeit  my  life  for 
the  furtherance  of  the  ends  of  justice,  and  mingle  my  blood  further 
with  the  blood  of  my  children,  and  with  the  blood  of  millions,  in  this 
slave  country,  whose  rights  are  disregarded  by  the  wicked,  cruel, 
and  unjust  enactments,  I  say,  let  it  be  done  !  " 

Quantrell's  eyes  filled  with  tears  at  the  recollection  of  Brown's 
dying  sons,  who  had  gone  in  bloody  testimony  before  him.  He 
heard  other  sobs,  also,  in  that  long,  deep  court-room,  with  people 
standing  in  window-sills,  and  oil-lamps  feebly  lighting  the  packed 

*  "  The  Scarlet  Letter." 


300  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

inclosure ;  but  the  voice  of  Booth  rebuked  those  symptoms,  audibly 
saying : 

"  The  damned,  black-hearted  villain  !  " 

"  Heart  black  as  a  stove-pipe  ! "  muttered  the  tight-shut  skull  of 
young  Mr.  Beall. 

The  old  man  now  thanked  the  court,  the  neighboring  society, 
and  the  jury  courteously,  and  those  who  had  prematurely  muttered 
against  him  grew  small  in  their  own  esteem.  He  disclaimed  any 
design  of  treason  or  general  insurrection,  merely  desiring  to  take 
people  out  to  liberty.  Nor  had  he  misled  any,  many  of  his  volun- 
teers having  been  strangers  to  him,  and  most  of  them  had  paid  their 
own  expenses  to  death. 

Thus  he  disposed  of  the  impression  sought  to  be  made  by  some 
Northern  lawyers,  afraid  to  defend  freedom  from  freedom's  side, 
and  destroyed  the  stigma  that  he,  an  old,  wise  man,  had  decoyed 
some  boys  to  danger.  The  little  army  of  fanaticism  was  made  to 
stand  equal  everywhere  upon  the  high  ground  of  principle. 

Only  one  man  applauded  when  he  was  sentenced,  and  him  the 
judge  severely  rebuked,  so  that  in  after-years  he  was  afraid  to  shout 
at  all,  and  grew  timid  of  his  own  natural  emotions. 

Little  Ned  Coppock  had  been  tried,  as  John  Brown  came  up  for 
sentence,  and  when  they  sentenced  him,  who  was  almost  a  favorite 
with  the  populace,  so  fair  and  young  he  was,  Ned  also  spoke : 

"  I  never  committed  murder.  When  I  escaped  to  the  engine- 
house  and  found  the  captain  and  his  prisoners  surrounded  there,  I 
saw  no  way  of  deliverance  but  by  fighting  a  little.  If  anybody  was 
killed  on  that  occasion,  it  was  in  a  fair  fight." 

Coppock  had  been  a  poor  orphan  boy,  but  the  Quaker  who  raised 
him  found  somewhere  in  him  the  spirit  of  the  wild  copack,  or  Rus- 
sian lanceman,  whence  may  have  come  his  name ;  and  when  John 
Brown  discovered  him  in  Iowa  he  entered  the  crusade  cordially,  and 
it  was  not  to  his  disparagement  in  Virginia  that  he  had  fought 
bravely.  He  stood  up  to  be  sentenced  with  his  arms  behind  him, 
abreast  of  John  Cook,  whose  arms  were  folded ;  and  between  them 
stood  two  negroes.  Green,  the  South  Carolinian,  and  Copeland  from 
Oberlin — a  college  which  educated  blacks  with  whites. 

Green  was  from  Charleston — the  city  which  was  to  begin  the  war 
— a  runaway  slave,  and  he  had  fought  revengefully.  Copeland  had 
been  raised  of  Virginia  seed  in  Ohio.  These  two,  the  least  culpable 
in  motive  there,  were  the  most  friendless  ;  but  Virginia  took  distinc- 


JOHN  BROWN  EXECUTED.  30 1 

tion  that  day  that  she,  alone  of  the  slave  States,  probably,  would  do 
no  more  than  punish  them  equally  like  the  white  invaders.  Farther 
south  they  would  have  died  by  torture. 

John  E.  Cook,  the  most  befriended  of  any  by  relatives  and  power, 
and  he  alone  dressed  newly  and  well,  was  the  most  unhappy  person 
in  the  band.  The  rest  had  put  life  behind  them,  and  were  resigned 
to  die,  while  he  had  been  tempted  to  confess  upon  his  comrades,  as 
he  had  also  been  the  Hebrew  spy  upon  Virginia,  and  therefore  his 
intelligence  did  him  no  credit,  being  unaccompanied  with  constancy. 
A  thread  of  self-love  and  glorifying  went  through  his  natural  cour- 
age and  left  him  unsupported  in  despondency,  but,  as  his  life  was 
taken  at  last,  he  died  manfully,  and  might  have  left  a  noble  figure 
with  his  delicate  outlines  and  better  mental  organization  than  the 
rest.  It  would  seem  from  John  Brown's  final  rebuke  of  him  that 
Cook  had  proceeded  to  Harper's  Ferry  in  advance,  upon  his  own 
motion  chiefly,  liking  the  adventure  even  better  than  the  cause. 

Stevens  was  tried  reclining  on  the  court- room  floor,  with  his  back 
against  a  mattressed  chair,  old  slippers  on  his  feet,  and  his  head  in 
a  kerchief.  He  accepted  no  favors,  looked  with  contempt  on  court 
and  foe,  regarded  John  Brown  as  less  of  a  military  genius  than  he 
had  supposed,  and  for  the  rest  cared  nothing;  since  he  joyously 
believed  in  spirit -people,  and  meant  his  death  to  be  a  visita- 
tion. 

Hazlett,  who  had  also  been  recaptured,  was  a  plain,  dull  Penn- 
sylvanian  ;  for  the  little  roster  of  Brown's  daring  lads  covered  many 
States — Maine,  Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  New  York,  Ohio,  Indi- 
ana, Iowa,  Pennsylvania,  Virginia,  and  South  Carolina ;  and  Kansas 
had  been  their  military  academy. 

In  spite  of  their  injury  to  Jefferson  County,  Virginia,  its  people 
were  seldom  harsh  with  these  strangers.  The  Teutonic  wave  rip- 
pling through  that  region  was  mild  and  laving,  and  in  many  a  farm- 
house lay  Kercheval's  old  "  History  of  the  Valley,"  saying :  "  Twenty- 
four  hours  never  pass  during  which  my  imagination  does  not  present 
me  with  the  afflicting  view  of  the  slave;  and  my  consolation  was  that 
the  master  would  receive  the  punishment  due  to  his  cruelty,  while 
the  slave  should  find  rest  from  his  toils  and  sufferings  in  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  ! " 

This  conscience  ran  through  all  grades  in  Virginia,  from  the 
Governor  of  the  State,  at  Richmond,  to  tl-re  jailer  at  Charlestown. 
"  I  am  in  charge  of  a  jailer,"  the  old  man  wrote  to  his  family,  "  like 


302 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


the  one  who  took  charge  of  Paul  and  Silas,  and  kind  hearts  and 
kind  faces  are  more  or  less  about  me,  while  thousands  are  thirsting 
for  my  blood  ! " 

He  was  a  multiform  study  indeed,  with  prismatic  lights  and 
sides.  Now  he  was  Cromwell,  and  now  John  Bunyan ;  now  Pres- 
byterian, and  now  Independent,  but  no  preacher  would  John  Brown 
have,  since  all  who  came  to  pray  with  him  justified  slavery.  He  had 
skeptical  or  infidel  sons,  some  of  whom  had  died  with  Christian  de- 
votion fighting  for  his  political  cause,  but  he  averred  that  his  expe- 
dition and  defeat  had  been  predestined  in  the  eternal  decrees  of  God. 
He  disclaimed  having  ever  had  the  spirit  of  retaliation,  yet  admitted 
advising  acts  of  deadly  reprisal,  such  as  friendship,  to  this  day,  feels 
bashful  to  defend ;  and,  indeed,  he  was  an  Old  Testament  pupil, 
possessed  with  the  complacency  of  Heaven's  headsman  and  hewer- 
down.  Discerning  people  said  he  was  partly  insane,  but  he  remarked 
acutely :  "  I  must  be  very  insane,  if  insane  at  all ;  but  if  that  be  so, 
insanity  is  like  a  very  pleasant  dream  to  me."  There  seemed  an  un- 
feeling side  to  him,  as  when  he  advised  his  wife  not  to  come  to  him, 
and  to  have  all  the  bodies  of  her  slain  sons  and  sons-in-law  burned ; 
yet  his  letters  home  were  tender  as  a  daughter's,  and  from  Maryland 
came  proof  that  he  would  never  kill  a  pig  nor  cut  open  a  watermelon 
without  dividing  with  the  poor  people  around  him  there. 

Death  seemed  to  John  Brown  a  mere  incident  in  justice,  and 
wrong-doers  or  wrong  systems  to  be  under  the  sentence  of  Moses 
and  Joshua.  That  terrible  book  which  waked  the  Calvinist  and 
Baptist  to  civil  war  and  cut  off  the  English  king's  head,  John  Brown 
had  balanced  over  the  Anglo-Saxon  republic,  and  made  terrible 
again  by  his  willful  reading  of  it.  The  democracy  of  the  saints 
seemed  still  his  religion,  and  he  wrote  to  a  merchant :  "  I  go  joyfully 
in  behalf  of  millions  that  have  no  rights,  and  I  look  forward  to  other 
changes  to  take  place,  believing  that  '  the  fashion  of  this  world  pass- 
eth  away.'"  "Let  me  be  spared,"  he  said  to  another  Joseph  of 
Arimathea,  "  any  weak  or  hypocritical  prayers  made  over  me  when 
I  am  publicly  murdered,  and  let  my  only  religious  attendants  be 
poor,  little,  dirty,  ragged,  bareheaded  and  barefooted  slave-boys  and 
slave-girls,  led  by  some  old,  gray-headed  slave-mother  !" 

Quantrell  took  Katy  in  to  see  him  one  day  when  Lloyd  was  on 
guard  and  Katy  in  the  town.  The  tears  came  to  Katy's  eyes  to  hear 
his  chains  rattle. 

"  Tears  for  me  ? '"  the  spiky-haired  old  borderer  said  ;  "  I  will 


JOHN  BROWN  EXECUTED.  303 

turn  them,  my  children,  into  songs.  At  my  little  farm  in  Mar>'land, 
twelve  miles  from  here,  was  a  nest  of  wrens  under  the  rude  porch, 
and  one  day  the  old  birds  flew  right  into  the  room  where  my  daughter 
Anne  was  sewing,  and  I  reading  my  Bible.  '  What  can  be  the  mat- 
ter, father  ? '  Anne  said  to  me.  The  wrens  were  flying  and  trem- 
bling, and  twittering,  as  they  had  never  done  before.  I  took  up  a 
pike  that  one  of  my  black  volunteers  had  brought  in,  and  went  out 
on  the  porch.  Nothing  seemed  to  be  there.  The  brooks  and  copses, 
and  wild  hills  were  glad  with  sound  and  silence,  and  shadow  and 
light.  '  Nothing  is  here,  Anne,'  said  I ;  'the  young  birds  are  in 
their  nests.  It  is  a  false  alarm.'  '  O  father,'  she  answered,  '  look 
at  that  snake  ! '  I  then  saw  twined  round  the  post,  below  the  nest 
in  the  eaves,  a  black  snake,  all  ready  to  devour  the  young,  so  help- 
less and  unknowing  in  the  nest.  My  child  "  (to  Katy),  "  I  killed 
the  snake,  and  such  a  song  as  those  old  birds  gave  me,  sitting  on 
the  rail  of  the  porch,  never  will  be  sung  till  the  chains  fall  off  and 
the  young  birds  are  free  ! "  He  rattled  his  chains.  "  You  may  be 
lovers,  children,  and  your  young  will  be  some  day  in  the  cradle,  and 
slavery,  if  twined  around  the  pillar  of  our  system,  will  choke  their 
life  and  chance  away.  Sing  to  the  old  man's  pike  when  slavery  is 
no  more !  for  you  are  all  my  children.  Southern  as  well  as  Northern, 
though  the  snake  will  strangle  me,  and  leave  my  young  wrens  to 
starve  ! " 

Katy  had  not  blushed,  pity  starting  in  her  maiden's  milk ;  and, 
while  she  strained  her  eyes  in  earnest  woe,  Lloyd  tapped  his  foot 
and  they  sang,  and  John  Brown  knew  the  piece  and  joined  in  : 

"  Carol,  brothers,  carol ;  carol  joyfully  ! 
Carol  the  good  tidings  ;  carol  merrily  ! 
And  pray  a  gladsome  Christmas 
For  all  good  Christian  men. 
Carol,  brothers,  carol — 
Christmas-day  again  ! 

"  Hearing  angel-music, 
Discord  sure  must  cease  : 
Who  dare  hate  his  brother 
On  this  day  of  peace  ? 
While  the  heavens  are  telling 
To  mankind  good-will, 
Only  love  and  kindness 
Every  bosom  fill  ! 


304 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN: 


"  Carol,  brothers,  carol ; 
Carol  joyfully  ! "  etc.* 

The  unwonted  singing  raised  a  great  commotion.  The  general, 
Taliaferro — whom  uscige  degraded  to  Tolliver,  and  whom  some 
dubbed  Tolable — had  been  at  the  guard-house  across  the  way,  tak- 
ing his  nap  on  the  veranda,  heavy  with  epaulets  and  juleps,  and 
ridden  by  the  nightmare  of  responsibility.  He  heard  this  singing, 
and  took  it  superstitiously.  Some  abolition  angels  might  have 
rolled  the  stone  away  from  John  Brown "s  tomb,  and  celebrated  his 
escape  with  Yankee  hosannas. 

He  came  tearing  up  the  jail-porch,  his  mighty  sword  raising 
echoes  down  the  silent  afternoon  street,  and  his  spurs  catching  in 
his  trousers'  stripes. 

"  Campbell — Avis,  what's  to  pay  }  "  roared  the  general.  "  Who's 
a-doin'  this  breakdown  ?     Is  this  a  time  faw  levity  ?  " 

The  sheriff  and  the  jailer,  thus  addressed,  entered  the  condemned 
man's  cell,  and  the  general  followed,  cunningly,  lest  some  black  art 
might  be  at  work. 

"  Cappen  Brown,"  asked  the  doughty  general,  "am  I  to  under- 
stand that  you,  sah,  desire,  sah,  of  this  saranadin',  sah?  It's  not  in 
military  usage,  cappen,  but  we  consult  yo'  wishes,  sah." 

"  I  do,  general.     The  young  people  sing  at  my  request." 

"  Cappen  Brown,"  exclaimed  the  general  of  militia,  saluting  for 
the  third  time,  "  yo'  desiah  shall  be  complied  with,  sah,  in  spite  of 
regulations." 

Hereupon  the  general  turned,  at  such  a  military  right  angle  that 
he  ran  into  six  of  his  staff,  who  had  come  to  rescue  him,  and  an  in- 
extricable confusion  of  sabers,  chapeaux,  epaulets,  spurs,  salutes, 
oaths,  and  apologies  ensued,  ending  by  a  strewing  of  the  place  with 
fallen  magnanimity.  Some  one  ran  to  the  cannon  under  the  court- 
house portico  to  fire  it  off,  and  the  negroes  at  the  two  hotels  rang 
the  big  dinner-bells  in  the  trees,  and  fell  down  their  respective  cel- 
lars, to  anticipate  a  bombardment. 

Keenly  alive  to  the  humors  of  the  siege  of  Charlestown  by  a 
phantom  abolition  army,  Quantrell  and  Booth  put  up  tricks  on  the 
Virginia  militia,  including  John  Beall,  who  regarded  everything  with 
a  lowering  and  serious  temperament.  But  the  culmination  of  bur- 
lesque and  pathos  was  in  the  reception  of  John  Brown's  wife. 

*  By  Rev.  W.  A.  Muhlenberg,  of  the  family  of  General  Muhlenberg;,  the 
Lutheran  pastor  in  the  Valley,  whose  gown  covered  liis  Continental  uniform. 


JOHN  BROWN  EXECUTED.  305 

The  subject  of  her  visit  had  been  made  a  diplomatic  matter,  and 
was  the  occasion  of  more  telegraphing  between  the  old  pagan  Capi- 
tol at  Richmond  and  the  seat  of  war  in  the  Valley  than  all  the  Vir- 
ginia press  required  for  news. 

Would  she  bring,  concealed  about  her  person,  the  plot  for  his 
rescue  or  escape  ?  Did  the  art  of  war  show  an  instance  of  a  woman 
entering  the  picket-lines  ?  Could  the  reception  of  Mrs.  Brown  give 
a  pretext  for  the  Federal  courts  to  interfere  ? 

Chivalry  prevailed  at  last,  and  word  was  passed  to  bring  Mrs. 
Brown  from  Harper's  Ferry  to  Charlestown,  not  by  rail,  but  by  pri- 
vate conveyance  and  military  escort. 

The  carriage-cushions  were  carefully  taken  out  to  see  if  they 
concealed  any  Northern  newspaper  correspondents,  and  an  escort 
of  cavalry  formed  around  the  ancient  vehicle,  that  had  apparently 
been  used  in  the  Shakespearean  age  by  Captain  John  Smith,  and 
was  at  least  as  old  and  as  decrepit  as  the  American  Constitution, 
which  was  soon  to  furnish  old  lumber  and  leather  enough  for  two 
governments. 

A  file  of  Virginia  dragoons  in  the  uniform  of  Marlborough's  age 
surrounded  this  crazy  State  vehicle  ;  the  poor  lady's  friends  were  not 
allowed  to  ride  with  her ;  but  the  Virginia  militia  officers,  instead, 
inflicted  their  preposterous  eighteenth-century  sympathy  and  com- 
pliment upon  a  woman  simple  and  native  in  her  life  and  ways  as 
Pocahontas. 

Up  the  long,  diy  turnpike  stretches,  like  causeways  to  the  top 
and  bottom  of  the  world,  dragoons  and  coach  came  rattling,  pistols 
and  sabers  ready  ;  and  negroes  peeped  from  knot-holes  in  toll-house 
and  barn,  and  white  families  turned  out  at  lanes  and  blacksmiths' 
corners,  to  see  this  ogress,  who  had  been  the  bandit's  bride  and  ma- 
ternal font  of  bandit  sons. 

Alas  !  She  had  hunted  for  twenty-four  hours  at  Harper's  Ferry 
to  get  a  wandering  bone  or  shoe  of  her  lost  babes  killed  there  in  the 
foray ;  and  one  had  been  the  sport  of  a  dissecting-table,  and  the 
other  clapped  mto  a  dead  negro's  arms  and  buried  indistinguish- 
ably. 

So  she  reached  the  hill-top  of  Charlestown,  marked  by  the 
stumpy-towered  Episcopal  church  and  the  prosecuting  attorney's 
mansion,  and  there  the  great  review  was  taking  place  to  prepare  for 
the  execution  on  the  morrow.  The  poor  lady,  worn  out  with  the 
silly  chatter  she  had  been  subjected  to,  took  little  note  of  the  glitter- 


3o6 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


ing  bayonets  and  loud  comments — each  yelled  with  special  reference 
to  "  Madame  "  Brown  ;  or  of  the  churchyard  filled  with  rabble  and 
the  church  itself  a  barrack ;  of  the  absence  of  black  people  from  the 
streets,  and  the  curiosity  of  women.  She  heard  the  sharp  echoes  on 
the  stones,  felt  the  sharp  pain  in  her  heart,  and  reahzed  where  glory 
and  philanthropy  left  the  blasted  home. 

The  street  at  the  jail  corners  was  so  crowded  that  the  military 
had  to  clear  a  way  and  form  a  square  ;  but  all  their  ostentation  was 
wasted  on  the  plain,  large  woman  who  had  learned  patience  in 
Northern  winters  and  unintermittent  child-births,  and  who  had  dealt 
above  a  quarter  of  a  century  with  a  husband  impracticable  and  per- 
severing as  the  wild  steer. 

They  gazed  on  her  with  hardly  recognition,  thinking  she  had  not 
yet  come  when  she  was  gone ;  for  they  expected  they  knew  not 
what,  but  something  dazzling,  like  Taliaferro's  aides,  some  of  whom 
had  their  hair  plaited  double  behind  and  brought  around  to  the  front 
and  tied  in  a  bow-knot  between  their  eyes  ! 

The  general  himself  was  an  entire  review,  as  he  stood  in  the 
upholstery  of  militia  regalia,  with  a  staff  never  afterward  equaled  in 
numbers  and  pomatum  in  the  New  World. 

Leather  thighings,  prodigious  boots,  loops  of  dyed  horse-hair, 
epaulets  which  seemed  to  clank,  and  sabers  which  seemed  to  titter, 
spurs  pointing  upward,  swords  pointing  forward,  scabbards  getting 
awry,  mustaches  twisted,  beards  like  breastplates,  dignity  and  vanity 
mixed,  like  the  quid  of  tobacco  under  the  martial  jaw,  and  the  solem- 
nity of  an  historical  occasion  attempted  to  be  preserved  coincident 
with  the  gallantry  due  a  lady. 

"  General  Tollivaw  "  (the  scene  seemed  to  give  it  the  sound  of 
Bolivaw),  "  pawmit  me,  general,  saw,  to  present  Madame  Brown, 
saw,  of  the  State,  saw,  of  New  Yawk — ah!  saw." 

Solemn  silence,  punctuated  by  an  officer  letting  fly  his  tobacco- 
expectoration  over  his  helmet-chain  without  moving  his  countenance 
from  its  austerity. 

"  Welcome,  welcome  to  Vahgeenia,  madame,"  spoke  the  general, 
vast  hat  in  hand,  and  describing  the  radius  of  a  great  circle  on  the 
floor.  "  Pawmit  me  to  shake  yo'  hand.  Pawmit  me  to  wish  yo' 
health  is  faw.     Pawmit  me  to  intojuce  the  offisaws  of  my  staff." 

Severally,  to  this  unabashed,  unrelaxing,  stalwart  mother  and 
pioneer,  the  well-meaning  but  inconsiderate  sons  of  Mars  were  intro- 
duced, each  in  sentiment  surrendering  his  personaHty  to  "  Virginia," 


JOHN  BROWN  EXECUTED.  307 

while,  in  fact,  with  a  whetted  self-consciousness  provincial  patriotism 
alone  could  so  deform.  Some  assured  her  of  "  true  Virginia  hospi- 
tality "  if  she  should  ever  visit  their  respective  counties— she  who 
was  to  know  upon  the  morrow  the  pang  of  widowhood  and  want, 
and  in  whose  life,  for  years  past,  the  acquisition  of  a  calico  dress  was 
an  historical  period  ! 

But  of  that  fantastic  staff  how  many  were  to  fall  and  clutch  the 
turf,  crying  on  God  and  mother,  and  forgetting  that  Virginia  ever 
was ! 

It  seemed  a  comfort  to  her,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  ill-timed 
smirks  and  inanities,  to  be  taken  aside  by  Mrs,  Avis,  the  jailer's 
wife,  and  searched  for  implements  of  suicide ;  but  Mrs.  Avis  knew 
John  Brown  would  never  take  his  own  life,  and  her  hands  had  the 
tenderness  of  caresses.  There  was  the  real  and  memorable  hospi- 
tality of  Virginia,  in  that  shoemaker-jailer's  family,  facing  the  roar 
of  merciless  millions,  who  called  for  severity  to  Brown's  men,  but 
saying  back,  "  These  are  my  captives  and  my  guests,"  Such  jailers, 
a  little  later,  might  have  made  prison-pens  also  pitiful. 

The  jailer  alone  remained  in  the  little  parlor  with  the  condemned 
man  and  his  wife,  although  Taliaferro  broke  in  once,  to  say  that  they 
could  only  have  two  hours,  and  then  gave  them  four,  for  he  was  a 
kinder  man  than  his  wind. 

The  resolute  woman  of  forest  stature  and  manual  labor's  mold 
went  up  to  John  Brown  and  called  him  "  Father."  He  was  the  only 
father  she  knew ;  for,  marrying  him  at  half  his  age,  when  she  was 
of  only  sixteen  years,  she  paid  the  penalty  childhood,  like  Ruth,  pays 
to  old  Boaz  and  his  prospects  and  intellect. 

He  was  then  postmaster,  surveyor,  tanner,  and  town-maker,  with 
the  dogmatic  will  of  one  predestined  to  be  restless  all  his  days.  He 
led  her  continually  into  the  deserts,  and  left  her  there,  and  went  off 
on  some  inspired  freak  of  ruin,  leaving  little  babes  around  her,  and 
even  a  babe  to  come ;  and  when  she  gave  him  her  destiny  and 
tenderness  in  charge,  he  already  had  been  the  father  of  seven  chil- 
dren, five  of  them  alive. 

He  gave  her  the  life  of  a  poor  white,  aggravated  by  the  splendid 
illusions  of  a  schemer  and  a  dreamer,  and  the  end  of  the  dream  had 
come. 

He  had  levied  upon  her  sons,  the  support  of  her  mountain-patch 
of  land,  and  taken  them  to  death,  with  their  widows  to  be  left  upon 
her  care.    Thirteen  children  had  she  borne  this  old  man,  the  sire  of 


3o8  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

twenty ;  and  to-morrow  he  was  to  die,  and  bequeath  her  only  his 
body. 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  in  his  white  beard  lay  her  face,  as 
often  she  had  thrown  it  into  the  fleece  she  spun  for  his  clothing  in 
his  absence,  wondering  if  he  could  be  dead.  The  spasm  of  her 
broad  shoulders  showed  that  she  was  weeping,  and  the  gurgle  of 
the  spirit  within,  breaking  over  this  last  flinty  barrier,  sobbed  forth 
a  few  times ;  but  he  stood  like  a  rock  used  to  the  flood  and  full  of 
its  moss  and  lichens  ;  the  tears  that  wet  his  face  were  the  splashings 
of  hers.     He  was  pitying  her  and  Nature,  but  not  himself. 

She  looked  up,  and  saw  him  so  natural  and  strong,  and  dried  her 
tears,  still  leaning  on  his  mouth ;  for  she  looked  like  his  buxom 
daughter,  and  only  his  shaft-like  head  made  him  higher  than  hers. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  they  let  me  come  to  see  you  at  last." 

He  kissed  her,  and  asked  for  the  widows  he  had  made  and  the 
children  he  was  never  to  see. 

"  Mary,"  said  he,  "  is  grandfather's  old  granite  tombstone  set  up 
by  the  big  rock  at  North  Elby  }  " 

"  Yes,  father,  with  son  Freddy's  name  under  j-our  grandfather's, 
who  fit  in  the  Revolution." 

"  I  value  it  highly,"  said  John  Brown,  "  for  I  am  the  first  of  my 
family  ever  put  in  jail ;  and,  Mary,  I  want  my  name  to  go  by  Grand- 
father John  Brown's.     A  revolutionary  soldier,  too,  I  hope  I  was." 

"  Papa,  we  don't  accuse  you.  You  thought  it  was  right.  We 
think  so,  too." 

"  Three  of  my  sons,  killed  in  this  war  for  liberty,  I  want  remem- 
bered by  an  inscription  on  that  stone.  Grandfather  and  me  will 
make  two  more.  I  have  loved  this  life,  wife,  so  much,  I  want  to 
leave  a  line  upon  a  stone." 

His  ambition  was  greater  than  the  expectations  of  religion,  for 
he  had  found  that  tombstone  the  day  he  ordered  his  deadly  pikes 
from  the  blacksmith,  by  his  grandfather's  grave. 

The  tombstone  being  discharged  from  his  mind.  Captain  Brown 
settled  into  a  contented  mood,  and  sat  down  to  the  meal  the  good 
jailer  furnished,  eating  sparingly,  and  with  business  references  to 
small  matters  of  property  ;  for  he  adhered  to  the  idea,  and  his  wife 
also,  that  he  was  a  great  master  of  affairs,  and  had  always  failed 
through  the  incompetence  of  the  times,  seasons,  and  agents.  He 
asked  if  his  wife  could  not  remain  with  him  that  night  and  depart 
with  his  mold  next  day,  instead  of  retiring,  as  if  she  were  a  whole 


JOHN  BROWN  EXECUTED.  309 

army,  to  Harper's  Ferry,  eight  miles  away,  and  there  await  his 
dumb  remains.  The  request  was  denied ;  for  the  rabble  clamored 
about  the  jail,  and  the  moral  pulse  of  the  State  was  in  a  high  fever. 

So  Brown  settled  down  to  read  his  will,  which  the  jailer  wit- 
nessed. 

It  was  a  will  of  souvenirs,  and  not  property :  the  tombstone,  his 
surveyor's  compass,  a  silver  watch,  a  glass,  a  lost  gun,  Bibles,  and 
debts.  He  wanted  all  his  little  debts  paid,  even  to  people  whose 
names  he  had  forgotten.  When  this  was  ended,  the  old  man  looked 
quite  comfortable  and  commercial ;  for  his  ideas  never  had  failed  to 
impress  his  family,  and  the  departure  he  was  to  take  on  the  morrow 
seemed  only  a  larger  journey  and  with  no  traveling  expenses  to 
provide.  Strange  that  he  had  read  the  Bible  every  day  of  his  life, 
and  forgot  it  now !  We  all  think  we  shall  die  anticipating,  but  we 
die  retrospecting,  and  preparing  for  this  world.  It  was,  probably, 
with  an  insight  into  his  high,  ambitious,  Puritan  nature,  that  Maiy 
Anne  Brown  inquired : 

"  Father,  wasn't  you  disappointed  at  being  took  so  soon  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  the  old  man  said,  with  a  nervous  twitch,  his  hairy 
forehead  wrinkled  speculatively,  and  his  gray  eyes  preoccupied, 
"  the  errors  of  my  plan  were  decreed  before  the  world  was  made, 
and  I  had  no  more  to  do  with  the  course  I  pursued  than  the  shot 
leaving  a  cannon  has  to  do  with  the  spot  where  it  shall  fall." 

"  Pappy,"  she  said,  the  last  word  being  a  cry  that  struck  the 
jailer's  heart,  "  didn't  you  suffer  when  Oily  died,  and  our  oldest  boy, 
Watty  ?  " 

"  No  pain  is  like  our  offspring's  death,"  the  old  man  said,  with 
his  right  shoulder  pushed  forward  as  if  to  lean  upon  some  spirit 
unseen ;  "  I  loved  my  children,  Mary ;  you  have  seen  me  nurse  them 
weeks  at  a  time.  But  I  saw  them  die  without  tears,  they  were  so 
brave." 

All  trembling,  the  large  child-woman  rose  and  meant  to  say 
something  proudly,  but  it  would  not  articulate. 

"  I  have  no  boy  left,"  she  meant  to  say,  "and  you  will  be  taken, 
too." 

"  Courage,  wife !  We  have  made  our  mark  on  this  world  by 
our  failure.  Death  is  the  incident  of  a  great  purpose.  There  is  a 
bright  morning  and  a  glorious  day.  Moderate  circumstances,  Mary, 
is  the  best  blessing  of  this  life.  By  poverty  and  failure  I  have  been 
preserved  to  do  this  work.     It  is  done ;  and  I  shall  see  our  sons 


310 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


and  daughters  who  have  gone  before — the  three  babes  who  were 
buried  in  one  grave,  the  three  grown  ones  who  died  for  Hberty. 
The  blessing  of  our  offered  blood  will  follow  you  for  all  the  re- 
mainder of  your  days.*     See  this,  Mary  ! " 

He  took  up  a  newspaper  and  read  a  message  from  the  Governor 
of  South  Carolina,  which  had  just  come  to  hand,  threatening  seces- 
sion in  the  event  of  a  "  Black  Republican  "  being  elected  President, 
and  also  a  legislative  act,  as  follows  : 

"Resolved,  That  the  State  of  South  Carolina  is  ready  to  enter, 
together  with  the  other  slaveholding  States,  or  such  as  desire  pres- 
ent action,  into  the  formation  of  a  Southern  Confederacy." 

She  did  not  understand  it,  or  was  in  grief  too  profound  to  try ; 
but  he  explained  to  her  that  he  had  forced  slavery  to  become  revo- 
lutionary, and  made  the  Union  of  the  American  States  the  national 
cause,  and  involved  it  with  the  fall  of  slavery. 

She  listened  with  interest  at  last,  and  so  he  absorbed  the  time 
till  she  was  commanded  to  go.  and  his  failure  took  the  light  in  her 
loyal  nature  of  a  postponed  success. 

Proudly  she  repulsed  the  insinuations  of  the  smirker  who  assured 
her,  returning  to  Harper's  Ferry,  that  slavery  was  a  gentle  boon  to 
white  and  black. 

"  Every  child  of  John  Brown  believes  he  died  for  the  greatest 
cause  in  this  world,"  she  retorted,  "  and  so  do  I." 

Having  had  his  way  and  will  to  the  last,  John  Brown  went  forth 
to  die  next  day,  taking  no  pains  with  his  toilet,  and  wearing  the 
same. clothes  in  which  he  had  fought,  and  an  old  slouched  hat.  He 
gave  what  silver  change  he  possessed  to  his  fellow-prisoners,  and 
admonished  them  to  die  like  men,  and  never  spoke  to  Hazlett,  lest 
the  identification  might  be  testimony  against  him. 

Stepping  forth  in  the  public  street  of  Charlestown  with  cords 
upon  his  arms,  the  old  man  was  indifferent  to  his  coffin  in  the  little 
wagon  and  to  the  movements  of  the  military ;  but  when  the  young 
wheat  in  the  winter  fields  met  his  gaze,  and  the  fodder-rows  of  rus- 
set maize,  and  the  winding  mountains  in  the  near  east,  he  felt  the 
farmer  in  his  blood  again,  and  not  the  radical. 

"  This  is  a  beautiful  countr}'.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  seen  it 
just  here." 

*  She  survived  John  Brown  twenty-five  years,  and  lived  to  see  a  statue  of 
him  voted  by  Kansas  to  the  national  capital,  and  his  scaffold  sold  in  pieces 
valuable  as  their  weight  in  silver. 


DISINTEGRA  TION. 


311 


Life  swelled  in  his  nostrils,  and  the  sense  of  beauty  that  is  the 
joy  forever.  He  looked  on  those  blue  and  mellow  mountains  to  the 
last,  thinking  of  nothing  else,  except  that  the  boys  and  citizens  ought 
not  to  have  been  kept  from  the  execution-field. 

It  was  a  privilege  to  see  him  die,  beyond  the  death  of  any  man 
yet  known  in  America  who  had  chosen  the  gallows  for  his  death- 
bed. Some  who  had  looked  into  his  genealogy  thought  they  saw  in 
his  face  and  works  signs  of  all  the  races  that  were  united  in  him : 
English  Puritan,  Holland  Dutchman,  Welsh — the  stocks  of  Hamp- 
den, De  Ruyter,  and  Jefferson. 

He  cHmbed  the  scaffold  first,  shook  off  his  hat,  thanked  all  for 
favors,  and  over  his  kindly  smile  the  death-cap  was  drawn. 

"  I  can't  see,  gentlemen.  You  must  lead  me,"  the  muffled  voice 
petitioned — to  be  led  to  the  death-trap. 

He  did  not  desire  to  publicly  speak,  though  it  had  been  forbid- 
den. The  only  inhumanity 'he  suffered  was  the  delay  of  the  militia, 
who  were  made  to  march,  countermarch,  face  outward  and  inward, 
and  repel  an  invisible  attack.  There  was  one  side  of  the  hollow 
square  left  open,  where  the  sun  was  shining  overhead. 

"  I  am  ready  at  any  time,"  was  extorted  from  his  lips  at  last ; 
"  do  not  keep  me  waiting  !  " 

The  scaffold-trap  then  opened  beneath  his  feet,  like  the  wicket 
of  heaven  on  golden  hinges  turning,  and  all  that  was  erratic  in  the 
old  man's  life  straightened  on  the  silver  cord  that  let  him  down  into 
the  bosom  of  the  Valley. 

In  after-years  the  armies  there  faced  every  way,  to  repel  insidious 
Liberty  seeking  to  come  in,  but  it  was  let  down  from  a  side  they  had 
not  thought  to  guard. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

DISINTEGRATION. 

Luther  Bosler  had  learned,  by  the  John  Brown  raid,  a  lesson 
nearly  forgotten  among  the  Maryland  Germans,  with  their  other 
Pennsylvania  Dutch  antecedents — of  which  was  their  dialect,  fast 
turning  into  unadorned  English — namely,  the  ready  money  of  going 
to  market. 

He  and  his  father  would  now  rise  by  the  moon  and  get  the 


312 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


wagon  ready,  and  when  all  strangers  were  shut  out  of  Virginia,  in 
the  season  of  the  executions  there,  Luther  bethought  him  of  the 
market  at  Baltimore,  and  he  took  Nelly  and  Katy  along. 

It  was  at  least  forty  miles,  but  the  way  seemed  grand,  over  the 
old  National  road,  with  its  remaining  wagoners'  taverns,  the  hollow 
tavern-yards  of  Frederick  City,  the  turbid  Monocacy  River,  Sugar- 
Loaf  Mountain  in  the  south,  the  Patapsco  winding  in  its  wooded 
hills  among  mills  and  convents,  and  Ellicott's  Town,  so  stately  with 
factories. 

They  stopped  part  of  the  night  at  a  tavern  near  St.  Charles  Col- 
lege, fifteen  miles  out  of  Baltimore,  and  Father  Hugh  Fenwick, 
teaching  there,  showed  them  by  moonlight  the  park  and  mansion  of 
Doughoragan  Manor,  right  opposite  the  college ;  and  there,  where 
he  had  lived,  the  last  survivor  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  Charles  Carroll,  of  CarroUton,  lay  buried  in  his  family 
chapel. 

The  long,  yellow-coated  mansion,  trimmed  with  white,  its  archi- 
tectural balustrades  and  projecting  wings,  great  servants'  quarters 
and  many  slave-cabins,  its  terraces  of  flowers  and  winding  walks 
and  mighty  trees,  formed  a  real  palace  amid  an  estate  that  would 
have  been  belittled  by  calling  it  baronial. 

Katy  walked  with  Hugh  Fenwick,  and  a  young  pupil  at  the  col- 
lege opposite,  named  Surratt — a  tall,  slender,  modest  person — ac- 
companied them.  The  manor-house  was  perhaps  an  eighth  of  a 
mile  in  circuit,  and  a  friendly  gardener  led  them  close  enough  to  the 
windows  to  see  the  portraits  within,  and  hear  the  various  company 
there  engaged  with  music,  dance,  or  conversation.  They  started  at 
one  place  to  hear  Lloyd  Ouantrell's  name  mentioned. 

"  Hush  !  listen  !  "  Nelly  Harbaugh  whispered. 

"  Isn't  he  dissipated.^  "  asked  a  woman's  voice  within. 

"  A  little,  but  his  father  says  marriage  will  end  all  that,"  another 
lady  was  replying ;  "  and  he  is  remarkably  fine-looking,  shy  of  ladies, 
and  has  a  fair  property  in  Charles  County.  Abel  Ouantrell  told 
cousin  that  she  was  the  only  maid  in  Maryland  beautiful  enough  to 
marry  his  son,  who  was  a  Lloyd,  you  know ! " 

"  When  is  the  marriage  to  take  place  ?  " 

"  He  is  with  the  soldiers  in  Virginia  now,  but  both  families  are 
agreeable.  Cousin  fell  in  love  with  Mr.  Lloyd  at  first  sight,  and  he 
is  so  affectionate  toward  his  father  that  no  opposition  is  expected." 

Katy  Bosler's  eyes  shone  so  wildly  in  her  suddenly  paled  face 


DISINTEGRA  TION. 


313 


that  Hugh  Fenwick  reached  out  to  support  her,  but  her  brother  al- 
ready held  her  in  his  arms,  murmuring  : 

"  Katy,  it  may  not  pe  true.  Tere  are  other  men,  Katy,  petter  for 
my  peautiful  sister  !  " 

The  girl  straightened  up,  and  spirit  flashed  from  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  Lloyd's  father  in  Paltimore,"  she  said,  "and 
get  back  my  wedding-ring  !  " 

She  listened  a  little  to  the  consolations  of  Hugh  Fenwick  as  he 
took  them  all  through  the  old  Sulpician  College,  which  Mr.  Carroll 
had  founded  in  his  ninety-fifth  year  of  life.  Katy  thought  only  of 
her  lover,  who  had  attended  this  school ;  and,  standing  in  the  chapel 
before  the  great  crucifix,  she  saw  her  priestly  friend  cross  himself 
and  mutter. 

"  Tell  me  what  to  say ! "  spoke  Katy,  in  trembling,  nervous 
energy.     "  I  want  to  pray  like  Lloyd  !  " 

"  Say  after  me,"  Hugh  Fenwick  answered ;  and  Katy  re- 
peated : 

"  '  O  all  ye  saints  of  paradise,  men  and  women  !  obtain  for  me 
these  graces — '  These  graces  }  "  Katy  hesitated.  "  My  gracious  ! 
what  is  graces?  Is  'graces'  what  I  must  get  to  get  Llojd's 
love  ?  " 

" '  To  love  God  alone,' "  Hugh  Fenwick  quoted  from  the  ser- 
vice. 

"  I  can't  say  it  now  !  "  Katy  burst  out.  "  It  would  be  a  sin.  I 
love  Lloyd  alone,  this  wicked  minute  !  " 

"  Love  me/"  Hugh  Fenwick  whispered,  with  trembling  passion 
on  his  tongue ;  "  I  am  to  be  the  priest  of  God,  and  will  teach  you 
the  way  of  his  will." 

"  And  all  tem  graces,  too  ?  "  Katy  entreated.  "  Oh,  I  am  igno- 
rant, and  te  fine  people  in  te  palace  won't  have  me  amongst  tem  !  " 

She  reached  her  hands  up  to  her  learned  friend  in  helplessness 
and  great  solicitation,  and  hardly  knew  that  he  was  kissing  her  in 
the  very  moment  of  his  own  invocation  to  love  the  highest  One 
alone. 

"  I  do  not  understand  .all  tese  names,  Mr.  Priest."  Luther  Bos- 
ler  observed,  as  they  looked  over  the  great  stone  building,  and  heard 
the  owls  call.  "  What  is  Sulpician  and  what  is  Jesuit  ?  And  which 
are  you  .'* " 

"  I  am  not  yet  ordained,"  Fenwick  replied.  "  I  admire  the  Jesuits 
for  their  worldly  learning,  and  the  Sulpicians  for  their  theological 
14 


314 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN: 


learning.  Washington  city,  or  rather  Georgetown,  is  the  university 
and  headquarters  of  the  Jesuits ;  by  a  miracle  it  was  directed  that 
the  American  capital  should  be  located  at  its  gates,  for  the  college 
preceded  the  capital." 

"  So,  if  us  Luterans  and  Reformed  people  had  got  tere  first,  it 
wouldn't  pe  a  miracle  ?  "  suggested  Luther,  controversially. 

"The  Jesuits  and  Sulpicians  always  assisted  each  other,  and  the 
Sulpicians  had  the  first  theological  seminary.  They  put  it  in  Balti- 
more, and  put  their  college  near  Gettysburg,  in  Pennsylvania ;  but 
it  did  not  flourish  among  those  old  Germans,  and,  after  the  Irish  be- 
gan to  emigrate  in  1849  strongly  to  America,  the  Sulpicians  removed 
to  this,  their  only  college  now.  I  am  Irish  and  German,  Mr.  Bosler, 
and  my  choice  is  not  yet  fully  made." 

"  Do  not  waver,"  Luther  spoke  ;  "  pe  not  of  two  opinions  !  Love 
and  religion  pegin  in  single-mindedness." 

He  looked  at  Nelly  Harbaugh  tenderly,  and  added  : 

"  Like  our  love,  Nelly !  " 

"  Oh,  always  believe  I  loved  you,"  Nelly  answered,  as  she  put 
her  hand  in  Luther's.  "  Two  ways  there  may  be  to  walk  in,  dear, 
but  two  loves  never  !  " 

If  Katy  Bosler  really  meant  to  go  and  see  Abel  Quantrell,  she 
was  spared  a  journey.  As  she  stood  with  her  brother  in  the  market- 
square,  in  Baltimore — Nelly  Harbaugh  readmg  theatre-bills  on  the 
bill- boards — she  heard  a  voice  say  : 

"  Sho  !  Light.  Cube  all  your  romance  and  it  is  four  walls — the 
same  as  a  prison  !  " 

"  '  Stone  walls  can  not  a  dungeon  be, 
Nor  prison-bars  a  cage,' 

where  love  and  romance  live  within  them,"  Light  Pittson  replied. 
"  See  this  beautiful  group  of  Germans,  sir.  What  rosy  girls  !  What 
a  bison-like,  great-eyed  young  man  !  " 

"Young  squabs.  Mister  Quantrell!  Winter  spring  -  chickens  ! 
Egg-plants  never  frosted  !  New-laid  eggs  !  Putter  !  Putter-peans  ! 
And  a  Frederick  County  capon  as  pig  as  a  goose  ! " 

"  No  scrapel,  Bosler  }  Sho  !  You  Dutch  forget  your  Pennsyl- 
vania fare.  No  Moravian  case  ?  No  Crefeldt  sausage  ?  What's 
the  price  of  pepper-hash  ? — Light,  will  you  like  some  of  their  mount- 
ain honey }  " 

He  looked  down  from  his  wig,  with  his  m.outh  turned  down  at 


DISIN  TE  GRA  TION.  3 1 5 

the  corners,  and  his  sardonic  smile,  like  the  last  red  coals  in  ashes, 
fell  upon  the  two  girls.—"  Ho  ! "  he  spoke;  "here  are  peaches  and 
cream  !     How  much  for  such  marketing  as  this  ?  " 

"  III  sell  out,"  cried  Katy,  leaning  against  the  wagon-tail,  "for 
te  ring  you  took  from  Hannah  Ritner.  It's  mine.  You  sha'n't  cheat 
me  out  of  it !  " 

"Sho  !  Rings  were  superfluous  for  love-matches  when  I  was  a 
boy  in  York  and  Adams  Counties.  They  put  a  ring  on  the  bull  and 
a  lawsuit  on  the  bridegroom.  They  had  the  herd  first,  and  the 
herd-book  afterward.     I  wish  I  was  a  boy  again  !  " 

"  You  can  pe  a  petter  poy  than  I  guess  you  ever  was,"  replied 
Katy,  "  py  letting  your  son  pe  honest,  as  he  wants  to  pe,  and 
marry  me  ! " 

"  What !  "  spoke  Light  Pittson  ;  "  Lloyd  in  love  with  this  child  ? 
He  said  he  had  a  mountain  beauty;  and  isn't  it  romantic,  father, 
that  I  should  find  her  here,  and  exclaim  that  she  was  beautiful ! " 

"  It  is  a  compliment  for  Katy,"  Luther  Bosler  bluntly  said ;  "pe- 
cause  you  are  right  lovely  yourself,  if  you  may  pe  a  little  wild  ! " 

"  Hallo  ! "  exclaimed  Abel  Quantrell,  putting  his  hand  into  his 
shirt-bosom,  his  market-basket  at  his  feet,  and  his  black  boy  attend- 
ing him — "  we  are  cubing  compliments,  and  I'll  complete  the  square 
by  saying  that  yonder  is  Miss  Amazon  herself ! " 

He  gazed  on  Nelly  Harbaugh,  who  was  nettled  at  Luther's  un- 
conscious compliment  to  another  woman,  and  she  replied  : 

"  When  you  got  to  be  a  right  old  man,  I  reckon  there  was  one 
rogue  the  less." 

"Why,  this  is  Hannah  Ritner 's  friend,  the  Dunker  pastor!" 
Light  Pittson  said.  "  She  told  his  fortune,  Mr.  Quantrell.  Can't 
you  see  Philip  Melanchthon  in  his  soft  eyes  ?  And  Zwinglius  in  his 
soldier-port }     Oh,  how  the  East  is  embellished  !  " 

"  Ho  !  sho  I  "  said  Abel  Quantrell,  "  I  see  we  shall  buy  nothing 
here.  I'll  cube  the  matter. — Bosler,  send  all  you  have  to  sell,  to  my 
house  ;  my  boy  will  show  you  the  way.  And  bring  your  girls  along, 
and  dine  with  us.  Sho  !  never  mind  the  expense.  I  want  some  in- 
formation from  you." 

As  these  mountain  people  went  through  the  street  of  Old  Town, 
Baltimore,  they  saw  against  the  great  shot-tower  there  the  theatre 
bill  of  Edwin  Booth,  brilliant  young  son  of  the  historic  tragedian, 
announcing  that  he  was  to  play  that  night. 

"  O  Katy  !  "  Nelly  whispered,  "  make  Luther  take  us  there." 


3i6 


A'ATY  OF  C A  TO  C  TIN. 


"  No,"  said  Katy ;  "  Luther  is  a  preacher;  I'm  a  preacher's  sis- 
ter, and  my  heart's  too  full  for  te  theatre,  Nelly." 

"I'll  ask  Luther!"  Nelly  said,  impulsively.  "If  he  loves  me 
he'll  give  me  one  chance.     If  he  won't — I'm  not  afraid  of  men  !  " 

When  they  were  all  seated  in  Abel  Quantrell's  library,  among 
the  law-books  and  card-tables  there,  after  a  wonderful  day,  Nelly 
asked  to  be  taken  to  the  theatre.  Her  spirit  was  feverish,  and  she 
felt  out  of  place  in  a  rich  man's  home  before  that  Miss  Pittson,  whom 
Luther  had  complimented  ;  and  she  observed  that  Katy  Bosler,  with 
less  intelligence,  absorbed  the  surroundings  without  fear. 

"  Nelly,"  Luther  answered,  "  I  think  you  do  not  know  what  te 
theatre  is.  It  is  a  place  where  they  play  life,  and  do  not  work  it 
out.  I  have  come  from  te  Plue  Mountain  to  make  a  little  money, 
and  take  it  home.  We  are  in  te  house  of  a  great  man,  who  has 
achieved  education,  justice,  and  real  things  ;  so  let  us  look  around 
and  grow  wise,  and  save  our  money  te  theatre  would  get  from 
us." 

"  Mr.  Booth  said  I  had  talent  for  the  stage.  I  want  to  see  a 
real  city  play.  It  is  the  call  of  my  nature,  and,  if  you  love  me,  you 
will  take  me." 

"  Yes,  Luther,  take  her,"  Light  Pittson  interposed  ;  "  if  it  is  the 
call  of  her  inspiration,  you  must  respect  it." 

"  It  is  not  te  call  of  love,  I  know,"  said  Luther;  "  it  is  not  te  in- 
spiration of  your  mountain  home  and  poor,  deserted  mother,  but  of 
te  sergeant  who  deserted  both  te  army  and  te  wife.  It  is  te  spirit 
of  restlessness  and  change." 

'•  It  is  no  worse,  Luther,  than  your  restlessness  for  money,  that 
sends  you  all  over  the  country  before  the  chickens  can  crow." 

Luther  replied,  gently  :  "  If  I  seek  a  little  money  too  sinfully  I 
shall  be  punished  for  it ;  but  te  life  we  are  to  enter  on,  my  dear,  has 
all  te  joys  of  both  te  worlds  to  me — of  heaven  and  love  besides.  It 
has  a  mystery  te  theatre  tale  can  not  have :  two  hearts  united  in  te 
family,  two  dispositions  to  be  yoked  together,  one  pelief  to  cultivate, 
and  a  grave  also  mutual  at  te  end  of  days." 

"  That  is  not  all,"  the  girl  exclaimed  ;  "  if  some  of  my  father's 
spirit  is  in  me,  I  came  by  it  naturally.  You  have  refused  the  most 
earnest  request  of  my  life." 

"  Nelly,  darling,  I  must  be  consistent.     I  am  our  preacher." 

"  Yes,  Luther.  You  obey  the  call  of  your  inspiration,  but  if  I 
have  one  it  must  be  smothered  in  my  heart." 


DISIN  TEGRA  TION.  3  1 7 

"  Nelly,"  the  large,  bearded  young  man  spoke,  tenderly,  "  we 
have  only  one  inspiration,  and  that  is  love." 

She  accepted  his  hand,  but  her  soul  was  wayward,  and  she  said 
to  Light  Pittson  when  they  walked  aside : 

"  I  have  asked  him,  and  been  refused.  Now  I  can  go  by  my- 
self." 

Abel  Quantrell  asked  Luther  Bosler  all  about  the  effect  of  John 
Brown's  raid  in  mountain  Maryland,  and  what  vote  the  Republican 
candidate  would  draw  there  the  next  autumn,  saying  that  Hannah 
Ritner,  a  trusted  friend  of  liberty,  had  recommended  Luther  as  a 
firm  and  just  man.  Luther  heard,  thoughtfully,  until  the  fierce 
spirit  of  the  old  man  suggested  war  as  a  possibility,  and  sought  to 
incite  Luther  to  resistance. 

"Abel  Quantrell,"  Luther  spoke  at  last,  "there  you  go  too  far, 
like  te  disciple  of  our  Lord,  who  drew  his  sword  and  cut  off  te  high- 
priest's  ear ;  and  ever  since  St.  Peter's  spirit  has  been  in  te  Christian 
church,  till  Christ  is  everywhere  in  sound  and  symbol,  and  nowhere 
in  te  soul.  We  Baptists  had  our  St.  Peter,  too,  in  John  of  Leyden, 
who  took  a  city  like  John  Brown,  and  prought  upon  his  brethren 
generations  of  persecution.  But  Menno  Simons,  a  former  priest  of 
Rome,  died  peaceful  in  his  cabbage-garden  with  thousands  thirsting 
for  his  plood,  pecause  he  would  not  meet  evil  with  evil.  He  is  te 
father  of  all  te  non-resistants,  Quakers  and  Baptists,  and  te  first  of 
all  rebukers  of  man-holding  was  us." 

"  Sho,  sho !  Old  Brown  has  cut  ofT  the  high-priest's  ear  this 
time,  and  the  priest  must  needs  hear  everything.  Go  preach  to 
your  people  that  Christ  is  for  liberty." 

Katy  came  in  at  this  place,  and  Abel  Quantrell  looked  at  her 
with  steady  curiosity,  ending  with  something  like  approval. 

"  No  wonder  Lloyd  fell  captive  to  your  eyes,  young  plover ;  I 
could  have  taken  them  once  to  my  dreams,  too.  Are  you  a  Dunker, 
like  Brother  Luther  here  ?  " 

"  I  promised  to  be,  mister." 

"  You  do  not  believe  in  rebellion,  then,  but  obey  the  laws  and 
seek  the  spirit  of  peace  and  submission  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  pe  happy,"  said  Katy,  "and  to  have  God  bless  me 
and — " 

"  And  Lloyd.  You  are  a  child  yet.  There  is  time  enough  for 
affection  to  try  itself.  Your  brother  will  tell  you  that  what  I  am  to 
say  is  right." 


3i: 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


He  came  to  her  and  sat  by  her  side,  and  put  his  bleached  hand 
upon  her  head,  and,  turning  back  the  small  forehead,  her  radiant 
eyes,  that  would  be  his  daughter's,  looked  at  him  with  the  dew  of 
prayer  in  them. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  me,  Kate  ?  " 

"  No.     But  you  are  going  to  preak  my  heart," 

"  Kiss  me  forgiveness  before  I  do." 

She  raised  her  chin  and  kissed  him,  and  suddenly  a  thought,  like 
coincidence,  rushed  through  her  ardent  brain  : 

"  God  gif  me  this  soul,"  she  cried  aloud,  "  and  let  it  feed  with 
me  of  thy  supper !  " 

"  Amen,  shweshter  !  "  from  Luther  Bosler. 

Her  arms  were  around  Abel  Quantrell  with  all  the  strength  and 
affection  she  showed  his  son  that  love -feast  Sunday,  and  tender 
kisses  thawed  his  frosty  lips.  The  magnetism  of  life  and  childhood 
entered  the  cold  portals  where  once  was  the  throne-room  of  a  con- 
queror's mind.  He  could  not  arrest  her  attack ;  it  came  like  Indian 
summer  and  its  thunderstorm  upon  the  fading  head  of  winter. 
Luther  Bosler  looked  on  with  the  sensibility  of  brother  and  of  priest. 

"  Gif  back  that  ring  where  it  pelongs,"  sighed  Katy.  "  Then 
God  will  bless  you,  old  man,  and,  till  you  love  somepody,  he  never 
will." 

"  '  All  hearts  in  all  places  under  the  blessed  light  of  youth  say  it, 
each  in  its  own  language,' "  *  the  old  man  repeated  and  explained. 

"  Had  I  the  merry  devil's  trick  to  be  young  Faust  again,  my  son 
would  wonder  at  my  gallantry !  You  can  not  kiss,  my  child,  the 
warm  blood  back  where  it  has  flowed,  nor  by  a  ring  revive  the 
golden  passion  of  my  prime.  What  justice  is  a  wasted  frame,  pre- 
sented at  the  altar,  and  love's  signet,  falsified  by  a  ceremony  no  nup- 
tials will  attend !  Sho,  sho !  how  few  there  be  who  work  for  the 
bettering  of  this  world  !  how  many  work  to  people  it !  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Luther,  "can  be  more  acceptable  to  our  Creator 
than  te  sight  of  a  well-replenished  earth.  If  he  preferred  Abel's 
sacrifice  of  a  lamb's  life  more  than  te  insensible  fruits  of  Cain,  will 
he  not  approve  te  offering  of  a  human  life  prought  forth  in  all  te 
piety  of  love  and  te  sacrifice  of  pain  ?  " 

"  That  has  been  my  lamb  upon  the  altar.  I  have  rendered  it," 
urged  Abel  Quantrell.  "  I  will  not  be  a  hollow  hypocrite,  and  raise 
another  altar  to  the  world." 

*  Goethe. 


DISINTEGRA  TION. 


319 


"  Mister,"  said  Katy,  "  you  seem  to  pe  fighting  love  away,  I 
know  you  love  something,  pecause  it  troubles  you.  Te  ring  is  not 
love,  I  know,  but  it  is  comfortable  to  have,  and  to  look  at  it  and  say, 
'  It's  mine.'  What  made  you  gif  my  ring  of  love,  that  made  me  so 
happy,  to  Hannah  Ritner  ?  She  told  me  I  must  git  a  ring  and  nefer 
lose  it,  and,  when  I  lost  it,  always  hunt  it  back," 

"  You  can  lie,  I  see,"  the  old  man  said,  austerely.  "  She  never 
was  so  weak — to  hunger  for  what  she  never  was  refused." 

"  I  won't  let  you  hate  me,"  Katy  cried  ;  "  you  know  I  don't  tell 
lies,  mister.  Look  at  me !  And  this  minute  I  would  rather  die  and 
pe  took  home  to  my  old  fader  dead  than  to  lie  apout  my  love  and 
Lloyd,  He  loved  me  pefore  we  efer  thought  of  any  ring,  Te  Lord 
put  te  ring  upon  his  jacket,  and  he  found  it  there,  and  it  was  his 
mother's.  When  he  gif  it  to  me  he  didn't  love  me  more  than  we 
both  loved  a'ready,  but  it  made  me  happier." 

"  Dunce  !  "  said  Abel  Quantrell.     "  Why  }  " 

"  Pecause — pecause — " 

"  Cube  it !    Because  what  7  " 

Katy  blushed,  and  then  looked  up  again,  all  beaming : 

"  Pecause,  mister,  his  love  respected  me,  and  wasn't  going  to 
hurt  me." 

•'  How  could  you  know  that  ?     He  meant  to  cheat  you." 

"  Not  with  his  mother's  ring — that  was  too  holy.  If  his  mother 
had  nefer  had  a  wedding-ring,  he  might  not  haf  cared." 

Abel  Quantrell  was  now  excited,  and  the  blood  that  would  not 
start  to  beauty's  caresses,  ran  to  his  temples  at  the  stem  alarum  of 
his  intellectual  indignations.  He  rose  and  placed  his  wrinkled  hand 
in  the  scarce  whiter  folds  of  his  bosom,  and  paced  the  room  in  the 
spirited  tread  of  that  pagan  who  defied  the  lightnings ;  yet  Luther 
Bosler  saw  that  his  face  was  not  now  spiritually  refined,  and  that 
the  cane  on  which  his  lame  foot  relieved  its  burden  nearly  trembled 
in  his  grasp. 

"  I  will  witness  before  every  God,"  he  said,  "  how  false  that  im- 
putation is — that  a  child  of  love  is  lawless  to  his  mother's  sex,  and 
only  to  be  humanized  by  form  and  hypocrisy  !  The  mighty  races 
of  the  bond  and  poor  are  thus  to  be  tainted  by  the  public  opinion 
which  refused  them  marriage,  and  the  wedding-ring  is  to  be  a  higher 
test  of  love  and  interest  than  the  fond  homage  of  separated  hearts 
and  offspring  noble  as  the  stag  !  " 

As  he  stopped  and  stood,  with  erect  head  and  trembling  nostrils, 


320 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


a  magnetism  as  of  some  old,  gallant  husband  to  his  young  bride, 
flowed  toward  the  Dunker  girl,  Katy  went  up  to  him  with  her  na- 
ture aroused  by  his  words  : 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  think  I  know  what  you  mean — that  if  people 
lose  te  wedding-ring,  God  will  still  let  love  make  tem  happy.  I  love 
your  Lloyd.     I  can  try  to  forget  him,  but  God  will  teach  me," 

"  Abel,"  Luther  Bosler  said,  reflectively,  falling  into  the  simple 
speech  of  his  sect,  "  nobody  blames  te  slave-people  that  can  not 
marry  and  own  their  children,  any  more  than  them  who  lived  with- 
out te  knowledge  of  the  law  of  Christ  had  to  pe  judged  by  it.  But 
all  them  who  knew  the  law  by  the  law  were  judged,  Te  slaves  seek 
decently  to  pe  married.  After  tey  are  free,  some  day  te  licentious- 
ness got  from  living  without  marriage  will  pe  their  accusation.  Mar- 
riage is  te  sign  of  a  man's  respect  over  te  world,  and  te  due  of 
woman,  who  is  judged  by  her  relations  with  man.  It  is  te  tyrant, 
in  his  self-love,  who  refuses  te  woman  te  ring,  and  pleads  te  tyranny 
of  marriage  for  refusing  it." 

The  old  man  looked  at  Luther's  mild  brown  eyes  and  shaggy 
Deard.  The  rage  of  intellect,  still  uncurbed,  was  about  to  break 
forth,  when  he  was  arrested  by  the  calm  yet  clerical  look  of  his  plain 
guest,  firm  as  priestly  authonty  : 

"I  am  a  pastor  of  te  Tunkers,"  Luther  said ;  "  I  speak  God's 
will  and  not  man's.  So  much  in  you  is  good,  so  much  is  fierce  and 
troubled  like  te  storm,  that  I  claim  te  privilege  of  a  guest  and  of  te 
Holy  Spirit,  to  pray  with  you,  my  brother  !  " 

Katy  reached  up  to  Abel  Ouantrell  and  kissed  him  fervently, 
saying : 

"  Come.     It  is  te  priest." 

He  hardly  knew  how  to  yield,  yet  he  was  yielding.  He  had  but 
little  experience  in  kneeling,  yet  he  was  kneeling.  To  the  melting 
word  of  "  brother  "  from  Luther  Bosler  had  been  added  the  whis- 
per of  "father  "  from  the  Dunker  girl. 

It  was  a  Dunker  girl,  perchance,  the  old  man  once  had  loved  ;  a 
Dunker  priest  he  might  have  been  married  by.  Who  knew  but  Abel 
Ouantrell } 

The  prayer  flowed  over  him  like  a  w^aft  from  the  hemlocks  in 
the  Green  Mountains  with  scents  of  childhood ;  like  the  purl  of 
Pennsylvania  brooks,  bearing  away  a  hidden  scene  of  love  and  ten- 
derness. The  words  he  hardly  heard  ;  but  the  chastening  spirit  in 
them  was  balm  in  his  nostrils  and  well-springs  in  his  heart. 


DISINTEGRA  TION.  32 1 

As  they  arose,  others  were  in  the  library  silently— Edgar  Pittson 
and  his  daughter,  and  Nelly  Harbaugh,  and  Lloyd  Quantrell. 

Katy  looked  at  her  lover  but  did  not  move,  feeling  that  judgment 
was  suspended  over  them  and  the  parental  law, 

Luther  Bosler  stood  among  the  statesman's  books  and  prints,  in 
his  wool  coat  and  rough  boots,  and  long  hair  and  beard  ;  he  drew 
his  sister  to  his  heart  and  looked  around  upon  them  all— senator  and 
reformer,  son  and  heir. 

"Friends,"  he  proceeded,  "we  are  poor  Germans  who  try  to 
make  no  trouble.  We  have  as  little  ampition  as  we  can.  Lloyd 
came  a-gunning  and  stopped  with  us  a  bit.  We  didn't  enfy  him 
anything  he  had— his  watch,  nor  gun,  nor  fine  clothes,  nor  money— 
but  he  and  sister  fell  a-loving.  It's  not  te  rule  of  our  church  ;  but 
love  is  a  sheep  that  jumps  efery  fence.  Lloyd  has  a  manly,  loving 
nature,  and  Katy  couldn't  help  hearing  what  he  said,  down  in  her 
pig  child's  heart.  Her  heart-strings  are  tender  yet ;  and  I  must 
take  her  away  pefore  tey  get  sore  for  life.  I  am  her  pastor  and  her 
brother.  She  will  do  what  Lloyd's  father  temands.— Abel,  tell 
her!" 

Lloyd  looked  worn  and  wretched.  His  eyes  were  turned  on 
Katy,  and  she  looked  at  him  with  wo  and  submission  and  pity 
greater  than  for  herself. 

"  Sho,  sho  !  young  sparrows,"  Abel  Quantrell  spoke,  looking  at 
both  like  the  judge  who  is  to  divorce  the  mismated,  "  take  out  the 
square  root  of  small  figures  and  the  surgery  is  safe.  Sixteen  and 
Twenty-two  are  not  fit  for  life's  responsibilities.  I  have  laid  on  my 
son  the  injunction,  and  he  has  given  me  the  promise  Miss  Katy  will 
respect,  I  know— to  wait  one  year  from  spring.  In  that  time  you  are 
not  to  communicate  with  each  other  !  Lloyd  has  given  no  attention 
to  ladies,  and  must  look  around  him  and  cultivate  the  sex.  You  can 
not  cube  life  blindly." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  sentence  had  been  less  severe  than 
Katy  expected.  The  promise  was  only  for  a  year,  and  not  forever ; 
but  Nelly  Harbaugh,  alert  to  the  subject  of  woman's  equality,  spoke 
out : 

"  I  suppose  Katy  is  to  look  around,  too.  She  doesn't  go  a-beg- 
ging up  our  way.'' 

Lloyd  grew  pale  to  hear  this ;  but  Katy,  never  taking  her  eyes 
from  him,  cried  : 

"  I  wasn't  a-begging  when  Lloyd  come  first,  neither  ;  but  I  guess 


322 


JsTATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 


he  didn't  have  much  trouble  finding  me  a-ready.  I'm  only  goin'  on 
seventeen." 

"  Father,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  spoke,  "  I  have  waited  years  for  your 
commands.  The  first  one  cuts  me  deep,  but  I  obey  you,  sir.  I  will 
spend  the  time  trying  to  find  some  career ;  and  if  my  heart  is 
changeable,  some  one  may  take  Katy's  place.  I  will  not  be  stub- 
born ;  but  the  past  two  months  have  been  the  first  I  ever  knew  of 
love,  and  they  may  never  be  effaced  from  my  life." 

He  stopped  with  a  long,  inhaled  breath,  on  which  there  rolled  a 
groan  toward  his  heart. 

"  Lloyd  !  "  sobbed  Katy,  answering  the  painful  sound  with  its 
echo  and  a  flood  of  tears. 

Nelly  Harbaugh  took  Katy's  head  into  her  embrace,  and  wiping 
Katy's  eyes,  muttered : 

"  Heartless  old  man  !  " 

Luther  Bosler  did  not  move ;  but  his  eyes  were  filmed  with  sym- 
pathy, and  Light  Pittson  went  to  his  side  impulsively. 

Lloyd  Quantrell  was  too  strong-natured  to  express  his  pain  more 
than  an  instant,  and,  rallying  with  some  pride,  he  addressed  his 
father,  while  Senator  Edgar  Pittson  held  his  hand  : 

"  Father,  to  complete  my  obedience  to  my  parents,  I  must  re- 
member my  mother's  pride  of  family,  that  you  have  already  reminded 
me  of,  as  her  only  sin.  There  is  a  spot,  I  hear — an  old  one,  some 
generations  back — upon  the  family  where  you  have  picked  me  a 
wife." 

"  Beware,  Lloyd  !  "  said  Abel  Quantrell,  instantly  moved. 

"  I  recognize  your  right,  my  dear  father,  to  say  where  I  shall  not 
marry.  I  would  die,  sir,  rather  than  put  a  stigma  upon  your  noble 
name.  Not  a  word  you  have  ever  spoken  of  your  early  trials,  pov- 
erty, and  humble  family,  but  has  been  cherished  in  my  brain  as 
testimony  of  the  pure  fountain  that  flows  down  to  me.  I  am  so 
jealous  of  that,  sir,  I  can  not  permit  even  you  to  say  where  I  shall 
marry,  if  it  mixes  my  mother's  blood  with  the  remotest  suspicion  of 
illegitimacy." 

"  Be  silent,  ruffian  !  "  the  father  commanded,  in  terrible  excite- 
ment.    Lloyd  hesitated,  not  knowing  where  he  had  offended. 

"  Let  him  explain,"  Senator  Pittson  quietly  said. 

"  Yes ;  he  shall  express  the  chivalry  that  is  in  him,  and  that  I 
feel  all  through  me,  also,  papa !  "  Light  Pittson  cried. 

"  Surely  I  can  tell  what  my  mother  would  have  turned  her  face 


DISINTEGRA  TION. 


323 


against,"  Lloyd  continued. — "  Dear  Light,  here,  will  forgive  the 
story,  if  Katy's  pure  heart  does.  It  is  related  in  Maryland  that  in 
one  generation  the  father  and  the  mother  did  not  marry  till  their  son, 
more  sensitive  to  their  situation  than  themselves,  refused  to  return 
to  his  country  and  accept  their  boundless  wealth,  until  they  would 
give  him,  also,  the  marriage  rite.  It  w^as  very  long  ago.  Proud 
generations  have  intervened,  with  earls,  and  dukes,  and  kings  for 
sons  and  sons-in-law ;  but  I  am  so  proud  to  be  the  son  of  Abel 
Quantrell  and  his  honest  wife  that  I  refuse,  father,  to  take  that 
blemish  into  our  house,  though  the  best  blood  in  the  world  may  have 
washed  it  out  !  " 

He  finished,  all  flushed  and  stalwart,  the  powerful  moral  an- 
tithesis and  physical  reminder  of  that  Faulconbridge  in  Shakespeare 
who  rejoiced  in  the  blemish  of  his  birth.  Republican  self-respect, 
which  is  the  greatest  aristocracy  in  the  world,  frowned  now  from 
his  small  gladiator's  brow,  and  his  strong  jaws  were  shut,  and  his 
gray-green  eyes  looked  as  bold  and  greedy  as  some  rude  Bayard  or 
other  unlettered  knight  in  the  days  of  setting-to. 

"  I  glory  in  his  principles  !  "  Light  Pittson  cried. 

"  You,  too  1 "  old  Abel  Quantrell  spoke,  turning  on  Light  Pittson. 
"  You  know  not  what  you  say  !  " 

"Sir,"  Light  answered,  spiritedly,  "you  have  not  your  son's 
sensibility.  Surely  I  can  understand  the  pride  of  pure  descent  and 
unstained  pedigree  !     My  father  is  a  gentleman,  too." 

They  were  all  attracted  and  alarmed  now,  by  the  exceeding  pal- 
lor and  lifelessness  of  countenance  on  old  Abel  Quantrell.  He  stood 
beneath  his  dead-black  wig,  like  the  fabled  pillar  of  salt,  looking 
back  and  stricken  into  stone.  He  seemed  to  seek  to  articulate,  but 
could  not.  Pride  faded  in  his  face,  while  yet  most  obdurate  and 
firm-set. 

"  Go.  friends  ! — Go,  Lloyd,  also  I  "  Edgar  Pittson  spoke.  "  He 
has  nothing  more  to  say." 

They  left  the  room  wondering,  and  Edgar  Pittson  closed  the 
door. 

The  old  man  still  stood  there,  as  if  he  had  died  upon  his  feet, 
his  under  lip  folded  hard  upon  the  square  lip  above,  his  hand  in  his 
bosom,  his  long,  straight  nose  like  the  stem  of  a  galley  in  the  storm 
of  fate. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Edgar  Pittson,  kindly.  "  There — be  composed ! 
We  can  not  afford  to  lose  you  yet." 


324 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


The  old  man  breathed,  and  all  his  countenance  broke  in  its  fixed 
lines  like  the  shivering  of  glass.  There  remained  a  panting,  failing, 
broken-spirited  man. 

"  You  have  a  fine  son  there,"  Edgar  Pittson  said,  soothingly,  "  I 
fear  you  did  wrong  not  to  let  Nature  do  her  work  in  that  young 
couple.  What  is  it,  after  all,  but  the  replenishing  instinct  of  Hfe, 
which  gives  color  and  romance  to  everything,  and  takes  a  thousand 
aberrations  ?  " 

"  Edgar,  I  can  not  hear  you  say  that  word  to  me.  Do  you  ac- 
cuse me  .-^  " 

"  I  }  Why,  never !  God  has  blessed  us,  and  will  bless  us  more. 
Thou  strong  fountain  of  my  life  and  parent  of  all  my  best  emotions  ! 
take  wine  and  oil  from  my  unworthy  youth,  and  feel  I  love  and  honor 
you  forever,  O  my  Father ! " 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

STRAY   ENDS. 

Luther  Bosler  was  very  tired,  and,  having  to  drive  the  girls 
home  all  the  next  day,  he  went  early  to  bed. 

Nelly  Harbaugh  had  been  comforting  Katy,  and  Luther  had 
given  Light  Pittson  an  account  of  the  romantic  Dunkers,  who  never 
went  to  law,  and  were  the  detestation  of  lawT^ers  and  constables. 
Nelly  was  no  more  appeased  by  her  betrothed  taking  notice  of  this 
stranger,  than  by  his  making  no  further  reference  to  her  curiosity 
about  the  theatre. 

She  was  piqued  in  her  own  nature  that  this  established  city  so- 
ciety did  not  interest  her,  nor  yet  put  her  at  ease.  Wild  and  rebell- 
ious promptings  came  to  her,  and  received  instigation  from  the  set- 
tied  fact  that  Lloyd  Quantrell  and  his  friends  were  not  to  come  to 
Catoctin  Valley  any  more.  She  had  bantered  Lloyd  upon  the  hol- 
lowness  of  his  pledge  to  his  father,  and  his  indignant  loyalty  to  that 
pledge,  satisfied  her  that  the  city  people  were  to  leave  Catoctin  Val- 
ley to  its  quietude  and  routine,  its  corn-planting  and  wood-hauling, 
manuring  and  liming,  cattle-fattening  and  distilling,  hoeing  and  har- 
vesting. 

She  shrank  from  the  recollection  of  her  lonely  patch  of  ground, 


STKA  V  ENDS. 


325 


the  consciousness  that  all  her  meaner,  worldlier  suitors  had  been 
dismissed,  and  from  the  shadow  of  that  Dunker  life  closing  in  upon 
her,  with  regular  attendance  on  church,  responsibility  in  the  "  fami- 
ly," or  Dunker  congregation,  and  loss  of  all  admiration,  coquetry, 
and  adventure. 

"  Oh,"  she  thought,  "  if  I  had  the  temptation  here  in  Baltimore 
that  pressed  me  so  hard  in  my  little  cottage  but  a  few  nights  past, 
what  might  I  not  do — where  might  I  not  go  ?  " 

Yet  what  oppressed  her  most  was  love.  That  plain,  deep-slum- 
bering man  in  the  next  room,  had  power  over  her  self-reliant  nature. 
If  he  would  only  break  away  from  his  dull,  unambitious,  progress- 
stunting  sect,  and  lead  her  to  the  theatre  now,  and  to-morrow  to 
the  great  capital  city,  hardly  two  hours'  journey  away,  and  bathe 
his  strong  sense  in  the  dyes  of  illusion  and  cultivation,  what  stuffs 
and  scarlets  might  the  shuttle  of  their  union  not  weave  in  a  busy 
future,  where  wealth,  activity,  and  following  would  be  traced  across 
their  children's  prospects,  like  the  marvelous  checkered  quilt  at  Bos- 
ler's  farm,  that  was  to  be  the  regalia  of  her  wedding-bed  ! 

These  thoughts,  and  the  growing  darkness  of  evening,  frightened 
her.  Maidenhood,  independence,  admiration,  self-love,  temptations, 
were  all  to  end  within  another  fortnight ;  and  they  had  already  pur- 
chased, that  day,  the  preparations  for  their  housekeeping. 

She  started  up  and  looked  in  Luther's  door.  He  had  lain  down 
in  his  clothes,  to  be  the  earlier  ready  for  the  long-aching  ride  of  the 
morrow. 

She  went  down  stairs.  In  one  room  Senator  Pittson  and  Abel 
Ouantrell  were  playing  cards,  and  took  no  notice  of  her;  in  an- 
other. Katy  Bosler  was  enjoying  the  last  night  before  their  separa- 
tion, with  Lloyd  Ouantrell — strengthening  him,  who  was  the  weaker 
one. 

Nelly  found  in  the  library  Light  Pittson,  reading  a  book  called 
"  Shakespeare." 

"  Medicine  }  "  asked  Nelly,  concerning  the  subject  of  the  book, 
"  or  what  Luther  calls  The  Holler  Gee?  " 

"  No,"  Light  Pittson  laughed  again  and  again.  "  This,  Miss  Har- 
baugh,  is  neither  the  holler  gee  nor  the  holler  whoa,  but  the  plays 
of  a  Mr.  William  Shakespeare." 

The  country  girl  looked  resentment  at  this  reminder  of  her  ig- 
norance. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  she,  "  now  I  remember  my  dear  friend,  John  Wilkes 


326 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


Booth — the  great  actor,  you  know — did  mention  a  name  like  Shake- 
speare." 

"  I  am  just  reading  '  The  Merchant  of  Venice,'  that  Mr.  Edwin 
Booth  is  to  play  here  to-night,"  Light  said.  "  I  have  never  seen 
Shakespeare  well  acted,  and  they  say  this  young  man  is  the  greatest 
genius  of  his  time." 

"  Read  some  to  me,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  asked,  her  curiosity  tri- 
umphing over  a  certain  hostility  to  the  younger  woman,  who  had 
the  promise  of  stature  like  Nelly's  own,  with  a  roundness  and  ma- 
ternal endowment  the  mountain-girl  had  not. 

"With  delight,"  Miss  Pittson  replied;  "the  stage  is  a  favorite 
pleasure  I  anticipate  in  Washington,  and  I  should  like  so  much  to 
know  a  great  actor." 

Miss  Light  read,  with  school-girl  eloquence  and  gusto,  the  inter- 
esting text,  where  she  selected  it,  at  Jessica's  flight  from  her  father. 
The  style  of  elocution  Nelly  critically  noted,  reflecting  how  much 
better  she  could  do  than  the  senator's  daughter,  as  Light  recited : 

"  In  such  a  night 
Did  Jessica  steal  from  the  wealthy  Jew  ; 
And  with  an  unthrift  love  did  run  from  Venice." 

"  Give  me  that  book,"  Nelly  called,  overbearingly.  "  I  can  read 
it  better." 

She  glanced  over  the  lines  which  succeeded,  and,  standing  up, 
recited,  with  strong  energy  : 

"  In  such  a  night 
Did  young  Lorenzo  swear  he  loved  her  well ; 
Stealing  her  soul  with  many  vows  of  faith, 
And  ne'er  a  true  one." 

"  Why,  that  is  wonderful !  "  cried  Light.  "  I  think  you  might 
make  an  actress.     Where  did  you  learn  to  read  }  " 

"In  the  plow-field,"  replied  Nelly,  bitterly,  "hollering  at  a  bor- 
rowed horse  that  would  noigee." 

Light  burst  out  laughing,  and  laughed  against  her  will. 

"  Won't  you  excuse  me  }  "  she  pleaded.  "  I  was  thinking  of  some- 
thing." 

"  What  ?  " 

"  Oh,  never  mind  it." 

"  You  was  thinking  of  The  Holler  Gee,  I  reckon,  miss  ?  "  Nelly 
questioned,  grirnly.    "  Well,  that  theolergy  is  all  I  am  to  read,  if  I 


STRA  V  ENDS.  327 

marry  the  preacher  up-stairs.  He  won't  read  plays.  Come,  let  us 
go  to  the  theatre  alone,  and  see  this  piece  ! " 

"  Alone  !  why,  it  is  dangerous.     Surely,  you  dare  not  do  that !  " 

"  You  will  see,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  replied ;  and  left  the  room,  all 
flushed  with  Light  Pittson's  praise  of  her  reading. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  came  down  in  her  manifestly  country  dress, 
almost  absurdly  and  cheaply  flounced  ;  her  gay  bonnet  trimmed  with 
bright  berries  and  "  loud  "  common  flowers,  her  blanket  shawl  and  a 
peddler's  mixing  of  winter  and  summer,  that  would  have  made  a  cari- 
cature of  less  than  her  fine  height,  bright  skin,  and  her  expression 
of  reserve  and  decision. 

"  I  can  pay  my  admission,"  the  girl  said  ;  "  I  won't  pay  yours, 
but  you  can  come  along." 

"  You  are  dreadful.  Miss  Nelly  !  Surely,  you  have  some  acquaint- 
ance there." 

"  You  can  keep  my  secret,  if  you  want  to  !  "  the  girl  said,  defi- 
antly.    "  I  may  come  back." 

She  had  never  been  to  other  than  a  strolling  company's  perform- 
ance, or  that  of  amateurs,  at  Harper's  Ferry  or  Frederick,  and  was 
innocent  of  the  bold  act  she  was  to  do,  at  that  demoralized  date,  of 
taking  a  cheap  seat  in  the  highest  tier  of  a  city  theatre.  She  stopped 
to  look  at  the  Booth  dwelling  in  Exeter  Street,  turned  the  corner, 
and  followed  the  tide  of  people  up  a  parallel  street  to  a  great,  lighted 
building,  with  its  back  against  a  dark  sluice  or  sewer  running 
through  the  city.  Her  money  was  gripped  tightly  in  her  hand,  and 
she  was  confused  by  the  number  of  entrances  and  the  files  of  people 
going  to  the  ticket-boxes. 

"  Where  is  the  cheap  place  ?  "  she  asked  a  policeman,  who  was 
eying  her  at  the  curbstone. 

"  The  Third  tier.     You  don't  mean  that  }  " 

"Yes,  the  cheapest  place." 

He  took  her  along  the  side  of  the  building  toward  the  smelling 
sewer  or  creek,  where  only  one  lamp  split  the  almost  solid  mist  with 
its  rays. 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  before,"  the  officer  said,  still  looking  at  her 
closely.     "  When  did  you  turn  out  }  " 

"  I  just  came  this  morning,"  Nelly  answered  ;  "  I  wanted  to  see 
Mr.  Booth  play.     I'm  acquainted  with  his  brother." 

"Johnny?     Ah  !  now  I  see." 

She  paid  the  quarter  of  a  dollar  for  a  ticket,  and  began  to  climb 


328 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


dimly  lighted  stairs,  where  troops  of  wild  boys  went  past  her  halloo- 
ing, and  she  wondered  if  she  would  ever  reach  the  top.  Her  heart 
failed  a  little,  but  she  persevered,  saying  to  herself  that  she  could  at 
least  look  a  little  while,  and  slip  back  to  Luther  and  the  snug  com- 
fort of  her  bedroom,  and  never  be  found  out. 

When  she  reached  the  top  she  looked  down  upon  a  great  depth 
of  seats  in  tiers — thousands  in  number  as  it  seemed  to  her — and  at 
gilded  galleries  and  carved  side-boxes  in  faded  gold,  and  at  the 
green  curtain  hanging  there  like  the  window-blind  of  another  land 
and  world,  so  suggestive  in  its  blankness,  so  large  to  be  so  una- 
dorned, all  faces  directed  toward  it  like  an  oracle  of  the  antique  na- 
tions, and  silent  in  its  green  eye  as  the  stagnant  lake  that  harbors 
the  crocodile. 

So  was  it,  and  so  it  was  to  be :  that  mimic  world  between  this 
world  and  both  the  worlds  to  come,  so  seductive  and  so  deadly :  joy 
of  the  senses,  rest  of  the  inquests  of  toil  and  intellect,  framework  of 
folly  and  of  grandeur,  home  of  genius  and  of  deceit.  It  lifted  the 
mind  to  heaven,  and  sunk  the  habits  to  the  shadows  of  hell.  It 
made  shame  and  ignorance  look  angelic,  like  peddler's  jewels  in 
pinchbeck  gold,  and  gave  subtlety  and  witchcraft  their  inspiration  and 
reward  ;  raining  on  the  gypsy  plaudits  from  the  purest,  and  tingeing 
with  some  gloss  of  scholarship  and  chivalry  the  mere  bully  and  Al- 
satian. 

There,  behind  the  mj^stic  baire,  the  school  boy  conspirators  were 
conning  their  little  tasks  and  .painting  their  faces  now,  trjMng  on 
their  greasy  wigs,  lacing  their  paper  bodices,  making  ready  their 
fickle  furniture  and  wooden  fruit  and  food,  and  shifting  their  coarse 
scenery  to  where  the  lamps  and  reflectors  would  make  it  cheat  like 
nature's  sheen  of  dew  and  sunshine. 

And  there,  in  a  not  distant  morrow,  in  this  same  theatre  where 
Nelly  looked,  the  ruling  conspiracy  of  government,  the  great  Demo- 
cratic party,  was  to  play  its  last  scene,  and  divide  like  Caesar's  assas- 
sins ;  and,  in  four  years  more,  the  actors  of  the  opposite  and  suc- 
ceeding party  were,  in  this  theatre  in  Baltimore,  to  give  the  sword 
of  war  and  peace  a  second  time  to  the  ruler  as  yet  unknown,  who 
was  to  be  and  to  be  not,  walking  like  Enoch  with  the  ideal,  and  by 
this  ideal  treacherously  taken.* 

*  In  Front  Street  Theatre,  Baltimore,  i860,  met  the  Democratic  National 
Convention  ;  in  the  same  theatre,  1864,  Abrjiham  Lincoln  was  renominated  by 
the  Republican  National  Convention. 


STKA  V  ENDS. 


329 


Nelly  looked  around  her,  and  she  was  astonished  and  alarmed. 
The  bare,  steep-pitched,  low-roofed  tier  she  sat  in,  was  a  dense  mass 
of  boys  and  men,  huddled  together,  peering  over,  exchanging  oaths 
and  nicknames,  some  intoxicated,  some  already  asleep,  some  full  of 
street  wit,  others  ravenous  as  if  they  could  gnaw  the  wooden 
benches,  so  spasmodic  and  fierce  were  they  in  everything.  Some 
were  without  coats,  many  had  not  been  combed ;  police  of  some 
kind,  also  common  and  fierce,  disciplined  the  most  disorderly;  and 
Nelly  looked  for  some  place  where  a  woman  might  have  privacy  in 
vain. 

There  were  also  women  there,  the  strangest  people  in  the  tier. 
For  a  brief  moment  Nelly  thought  they  were  extravagantly  dressed 
ladies.  Their  "  loud  "  feathers  and  velvet  trains,  powder  and  rouge, 
and  freedom  of  manners  and  of  charms,  appeared  to  the  mountain 
orphan  the  very  splendor  of  society ;  but  a  second  look,  a  burst  of 
laughter,  and  a  word  that  seemed  from  women's  public  lips  to  in- 
vite God's  lightnings  down,  froze  Nelly's  blood  ! 

Where  was  she  ?  What  were  these  }  Dare  she  stay  one  mo- 
ment longer  here  } 

"  Hush  !  "  a  loud  whispered  command  came  ;  "  get  down,  all  of 
you  !     The  curtain  is  up." 

She  found  a  place  to  crouch  down  at  the  top  of  the  tier.  The 
next  person  to  her  w^as  an  old  Eastern  Shoreman,  with  a  chin  which 
seemed  to  run  down  his  collar,  and  be  a  mere  wrinkle  of  his  loose 
neck ;  and  he  was  asleep,  and  said  occasionally :  "  Luff  off !  luff ! 
P'int  on  the  beam  !  "  In  course  of  time  this  melancholy  man  would 
droop  his  head  on  Nelly's  shoulder,  but  she  felt  protected  by  his 
honest  obliviousness,  and  all  her  soul  was  in  the  play. 

The  first  words  met  her  sensibility  like  tones  of  sympathy : 
"  In  sooth,  I  know  not  why  I  am  so  sad  : 
It  wearies  me  ;  you  say  it  wearies  you." 

So  spoke  the  merchant  Antonio,  soon  joined  by  his  noble  friends, 
all  dressed  in  rich  attires  with  comely  hose. 

"  Your  mind  is  tossing  on  the  ocean," 
one  of  them  says,  and  so  was  Nelly's.     Then  Bassanio,  the  lover, 
borrows  the  merchant's  money  to  wed  Portia,  and  Nelly  felt  the  de- 
scription to  be  her  complement : 

"  Her  sunny  locks 
Hang  on  her  temples  like  a  golden  fleece." 


330 


KATY  OF  C.ATOCTIN. 


Portia  and  her  maid,  and  the  caskets  of  gold,  silver,  and  lead, 
Nelly  saw  like  wondrous  apparitions ;  and  then  came  in  the  piercing 
eyes  and  pointed  face,  like  jewels  set  in  flesh,  of  Edwin  Booth,  as 
the  Jew  usurer,  at  only  twenty-six  years  of  age,  his  youth  revealed 
in  his  fine  limbs  and  crafty  ankles,  his  head  alert  and  manly  every- 
where, life  set  in  him  on  silken  nerves,  and  character  inlaid  with 
strange  translucencies  like  gold  and  tortoise-shell. 

He  had  decision  like  the  wasp's  in  rage,  and  grace  like  the  young 
cock  at  morning  striding  the  poultr)'  world.  Something  subtle  was 
woven  in  his  manliness  like  guile  in  the  pagan  gods. 

Beauty  and  terror  seized  the  country  girl  as  this  disguised 
Apollo  spun  his  deadly  mesh  around  Antonio,  and  bound  him  in  a 
pound  of  flesh  to  repay  the  loan  of  friendship. 

"  P'int  on  the  beam  !  Luff  hard  ! "  the  oysterman  at  her  side 
muttered,  looking  at  Nelly  idiotically,  and  asking : 

"  Whair  we  dropped  anchor  ?     P'inted  whair  }  " 

He  gazed  at  her  awhile,  and  was  again  asleep,  nodding,  and  now 
the  curtain  rose  once  more  upon  the  Jew's  abode  and  most  unfilial 
daughter  Jessica. 

Nelly's  sensitive  excitement,  seeking  everywhere  for  her  excuse 
and  rebellion,  made  Jessica  in  her  mind  the  likeness  of  herself,  and 
Shylock's  avarice  her  lover's  disposition.  She  heard  the  Jew's  serv- 
ant say : 

"  '  Launcelot,  budge  not ! '  '  Budge  ' !  says  the  fiend  ;  '  budge 
not,'  says  my  conscience.  ...  To  run  away  from  the  Jew,  I  should 
be  ruled  by  the  fiend." 

Who  was  Nelly  thinking  of  as  "  the  fiend  "  ?  She  stared  at  the 
play  as  if  it  were  another  work  of  Hannah  Ritner,  the  conjurer. 

Now  came  "  the  fiend  "  of  Jessica  in — beautiful  Lorenzo  ;  and  at 
first  Nelly  thought  it  was  Mr.  John  Booth,  so  much  alike,  to  unprac- 
ticed  eyes,  do  actors  look  in  their  mediaeval  clothes  and  dazzling 
powdered  and  penciled  faces,  and  she  was  not  soon  convinced  of 
the  contrary,  as  Lorenzo  took  Jessica's  secret  letter,  saying  she 
would  rob  her  father  and  fly  with  the  actor,  who  thus  excused  her : 

"  And  never  dare  misfortune  cross  her  foot, 
Unless  she  do  it  under  this  excuse — 
That  she  is  issue  to  a  faithless  Jew." 

~Why  did  Nelly  recall  her  recreant  father,  and  accuse  herself  of 
his  wayward  blood  ?     Alas !  the  well-deserving  never  stigmatize 


STRAY  EA'DS.  33 1 

their  ancestors,  but  in  the  crimes  of  these  the  willful  seek  incen- 
tive ! 

Then  Shylock's  penurious  soul  and  habits  in  his  household 
seemed  to  comfort  the  country  girl : 

"  What,  Jessica  !  thou  shalt  not  gormandize, 
And  sleep  and  snore  and  rend  apparel  out, 
Nor  thnist  your  head  into  the  public  street. 
Let  not  the  sound  of  shallow  foppery  enter 
My  sober  house  !  By  Jacob's  staff,  I  swear,  .  .  . 
*  Fast  bind  !  fast  find  ! '  " 

All  this  seemed  Luther  Bosler's  early  rising,  rebuke  of  morning 
sleep  and  worldly  apparel  and  of  holiday  joys,  while  "  By  Jacob  " 
seemed  to  mean  Jake  Bosler,  with  his  everlasting  "  Bi'm-by."  Yet 
Nelly's  rage  had  the  heart-burn  in  it,  and  she  wondered  why  Jessica 
could  sing : 

"  Let  me,  then,  in  wanton  play 
Sigh  and  gaze  my  soul  away  ? 

The  daughter  of  Shylock  slipped  down  from  the  casement  with  her 
father's  plunder  and  fell  into  Lorenzo's  arms,  who  protested  for  her 
the  compliment  so  soothing  to  Nelly  : 

"  For  she  is  wise, 
And  fair  she  is, 
And  true  she  is  ; 

And  therefore,  like  herself,  wise,  fair,  and  true, 
Shall  she  be  placed  in  my  constant  soul." 

"Why,"  Nelly  thought,  as  the  curtain  rolled  down  upon  this 
praise  of  deceit,  "  the  people  applaud  that  girl's  ingratitude,  though 
she  dishonors  her  old  father !  And  so  do  I !  So  does  her  lover  re- 
ward her  with  his  constancy  !  " 

"  Luff !  "  the  Eastern  Shoreman  muttered,  awakened  by  the  ap- 
plause. "  What !  not  slipped  anchor  yit }  "  He  stared  at  her  in  a 
melancholy  way  a  while,  and  then  began  to  pucker  and  to  cry. 

"  What's  the  matter,  sir  }  "  Nelly  asked. 

"  I  got  a  darter  big  as  you,"  the  man  replied.  "  If  she  was  hyar, 
I'd  cry.  I'll  cry  fur  you.  I'll  give  you  her  quarter.  Take  it,  pooty, 
an'  luff  off." 

He  had  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  in  his  hand.  She  was  about  to  repel 
it.  when  she  saw  men  and  women  looking  on,  and,  to  stop  his  snivel- 
ing, she  took  the  silver  and  put  it  in  her  pocket.     Avarice  rose  up 


332  KATY  OF  C A  TO  C  TIN. 

at  that  moment,  and  she  thought,  "  I  have  seen  the  show  for  noth- 
ing." 

The  rising  curtain  showed  young  Edwin  Booth,  all  fired  to  his 
mettle,  cursing  his  daughter's  flight  till  Nelly's  blood  ran  cold,  and 
thanking  God  for  Antonio's  losses  and  shipwrecks ;  yet  in  the  crude 
girl's  ear  the  glory  of  the  actor's  art  put  down  the  human  interest, 
and  started  the  wild  passion,  too  often  impelled  on  slippery  virtue, 
to  be  an  actress  like  Portia,  who  next  took  the  scene  as  custodian 
of  her  dead  father's  casket,  in  which  her  husband  and  her  fortune 
lay  for  her  suitors  to  choose.  "  Of  course,"  thought  Nelly,  "  Bas- 
sanio  will  choose  the  gold  casket,  as  it  is  worth  the  most."  He 
chose  the  leaden  one,  and  made  Nelly  reflect,  "  Is  that  my  dull  lover, 
with  the  leaden  eyes  and  sure  instinct  of  right  ? "  But  Portia's 
speech  again  inspired  Nelly's  ambition,  and  seemed  to  reason  with 
her  country  fears,  as  Portia  declaimed  : 

"  I,  an  unlessoned  girl,  unschooled,  unpracticed, 
Happy  in  this,  she  is  not  yet  so  old 
But  she  may  learn." 

The  ring  which  Portia  gives  her  engaged  lover  awoke  the  coun- 
try girl's  superstitions  as  resembling  Katy  Bosler's  lost  pledge ;  and 
next  she  saw  the  chaste  Portia,  too,  take  secret  flight,  fresh  from 
her  marriage  vows,  and  treacherous  Jessica  installed  in  Portia's  pal- 
ace. The  play-maker  in  his  sectarian  uncharity  was  rewarding  evil- 
doing,  and  confirming  a  worldly  course  in  at  least  one  of  his  audi- 
tors. 

"  What  time  is  it,  sir  ?  "  asked  Nelly,  as  the  curtain  fell  on  act 
the  third. 

"  Ten  ;  but  I  sha'n't  go.  Luff  away  from  me  now.  I'm  o'  fam- 
ily!" 

He  raised  his  voice,  and  half  the  people  of  the  tier  looked  where 
they  sat. 

"  I  must  go  if  it's  ten  o'clock.     Don't  cry  out  so !  "  Nelly  said. 

"  She  won't  luff,"  loudly  whined  the  tipsy  oysterman.  "  She'll 
run  me  down,  and  I've  sot  my  lanterns  by  the  law.  I've  got  my 
own  family,  but  she'll  run  me  down  ! " 

Nelly  gazed  at  the  man  in  w^onder  and  alarm.  Her  intuitions 
were  quick  as  her  necessity;  for  people  were  running  over  the 
benches  and  crowding  down  the  steep,  narrow  aisles  to  see  the  oc- 
casion for  an  altercation,  and  she  saw  among  these  overwilling  wit- 


SmA  Y  EXDS. 


333 


nesses  some  women  unescorted,  and  giggling  childishly.  It  thus 
occurred  to  Nelly  that  this  poor  man  had  mistaken  her  for  such  as 
those  female  frequenters  of  the  place,  and  was  under  the  temptation 
of  her  beauty,  which  his  conscience  was  resisting  in  the  shouting 
Methodist  way,  general  to  his  peninsula. 

"  Let  me  pass !  The  man  is  crazy !  "  Nelly  called  in  the  tem- 
pered boldness  of  her  fear  and  indignation. 

"  She  took  my  money,"  piped  the  man's  high,  quavering  voice, 
*'  but  she  won't  luff  off  !  " 

A  terrible  word  began  to  sound  through  that  high,  steaming, 
whispering  loft : 

"  Thief  !  "     "  She's  a  thief !  "     "  He  says  she  took  his  money  !  " 

A  thousand  eyes  seemed  to  stare  at  the  girl ;  she  could  discern 
the  people  below  turning  their  backs  to  the  curtain  and  throwing 
their  faces  upward  to  look  for  the  commotion,  and  opera-glasses 
from  the  boxes  and  front  stalls  were  pointed  toward  her. 

Despair  was  fast  freezing  her  tongue  to  her  throat.  She  saw 
herself  the  subject  of  a  police  item  in  the  morning,  the  inhabitant 
all  night  of  a  police-station,  rejected  of  her  lover  and  his  family,  and 
flung  back  into  the  mountains  like  a  crippled  bird,  never  to  fly  nor 
renew  its  plumage  agam. 

In  this  appalling  instant  a  person,  about  whom  something  seemed 
familiar,  though  Nelly  in  her  excitement  took  no  heed  of  him,  pushed 
right  through  the  motley  people  to  Nelly's  side,  and  seized  the  East- 
em  shoreman  and  hurled  him  up  the  aisle,  and  sat  down  by  Nelly, 
exclaiming  loudly : 

"  It's  nothin'  but  a  drunken  rnan  with  the  delirium  tremens." 

The  fickle  crowd  set  on  the  Eastern  Shoreman,  and  chased  him 
down  the  stairs  into  the  street. 

"  Silence,  there,  all  of  you  !  The  curtain's  rung  up,"  an  ofificer 
cried,  looking  down  on  Nelly  and  her  deliverer. 

She  determined  to  go  the  moment  she  was  unobserved,  and 
breathed  a  kind  of  prayer  to  God  and  her  mother  that,  if  they  would 
only  let  her  depart  in  safety,  she  would  join  the  Dunker  fold,  and 
grudge  the  world  its  snares  and  excitements  no  more ;  but  some- 
thing in  the  splendid  act  below  held  her  spell-bound  :  the  Jew  with 
scales  and  knife  confronted  the  merchant  to  cut  his  heart's  flesh 
out  at  the  award  of  the  duke  of  the  country.  Young  Edwin  Booth 
was  now  in  the  nervous  exaltation  of  his  art,  and  spoke  this  unin- 
tended picture  of  the  slave  system  of  America : 


224  KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  You  have  among  you  many  a  purchased  slave 
Which,  like  your  asses  and  your  dogs  and  mules, 
You  use  in  abject  and  in  slavish  parts 
Because  you  bought  them  ;  shall  I  say  to  you, 
'  Let  them  be  free,  marry  them  to  your  heirs  ; 
Why  sweat  they  under  their  burdens  ?  ' 
You  will  answer, 

'  The  slaves  are  ours ' ;  so  do  I  answer  you : 
'  The  pound  of  flesh  is  mine  ! '  " 

Thus  Shakespeare,  universal  as  the  sun,  had  thrown  his  prophetic 
glance  upon  the  Dred-Scott  decision,  made  in  young  Booth's  genera- 
tion by  a  Mar>lander  as  chief  justice  of  the  whole  republic,  that 
slaves  "  had  no  rights  which  the  white  man  was  bound  to  respect." 
Emphatic  applause  shook  the  great  theatre,  for  Shylock  had  been 
confirmed  by  nearly  a  full  American  bench. 

How  Nelly's  heart  bounded  in  ecstasy  and  emy  to  hear  Portia, 
the  woman,  in  the  disguise  of  a  lawyer,  plead  for  the  stay  of  such 
insensate  law : 

"  Mercy  is  above  the  sceptered  sway, 
It  is  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  kings." 

So  was  it,  for  the  audience  loudly  approved  this  sentiment,  also, 
and  most  eminently  where  the  poorest  people  sat;  and  they,  being 
the  majority,  were  the  "  enthroned."  Nelly  forgot  her  prayer,  the 
time,  her  fears,  and  everything  but  that  most  vivid  scene  of  one 
law-authorized  usurer  whetting  his  knife  to  cut  the  bankrupt's 
heart  out,  and  nothing  but  woman's  wit  and  skill  to  stay  the  mur- 
derer. 

The  woman-lawyer  triumphed.  The  butcher  departed,  foiled 
and  beaten  and  broken-hearted,  and  his  wealth  confiscated  to  his 
false  child. 

The  gallant  actor  wrung  from  ever)'  condition  in  that  theatre  a 
meed  of  approbation  subtile  as  his  own  art,  some  approving  of  Shy- 
lock's  fate  and  some  of  the  artist's  skill  to  make  him  hateful  yet 
imposing.  The  act  closed  with  the  surrendering  of  Portia's  ring  to 
the  lawyer,  in  whose  part  her  husband  had  not  known  her : 

"  You  swore  to  me,  when  I  did  give  it  you. 
That  you  would  wear  it  till  the  hour  of  death. 
And  that  it  should  lie  with  you  in  the  grave  ; 
Even  so  void  is  your  false  heart  of  truth." 


STRA  V  ENDS. 


335 


No  ring  had  Nelly  Harbaugh  of  Luther  Bosler  but  the  ring  of 
loving  arnns  and  his  rugged  kiss.  She  thought  on  Katy's  lost  ring, 
and  on  her  own  mutiny  and  loss  of  honorable  faith,  and  started, 
pale-faced,  to  retrieve  her  husband. 

It  was  too  late. 

The  new  person  who  had  taken  the  seat  by  her  side  whispered 
to  her.  What  he  said  was  so  low  and  familiar  that  it  drove  from 
her  mind  every  safeguard  of  forethought  or  prudence,  and  awakened 
the  spirit  which  was  wont  to  draw  down  the  old  gun  in  her  cabin 
and  march  insulters  to  her  gate. 

She  looked  at  the  man. 

It  was  one  of  the  Logans,  the  slave-hunters  of  the  mount- 
ains. 

He  repeated  his  insinuation,  having,  no  doubt,  recognized  her  as 
from  his  own  neighborhood,  where  she  enjoyed  more  than  a  local 
fame  for  beauty. 

The  spirit  of  the  poor  white  race,  that  always  disdained  the  slave- 
buyer,  sprang  to  Nelly's  temples. 

"  You  think  you're  talking  to  a  nigger,  I  reckon,"  she  exclaimed, 
in  uncontrollable  rage.     "  Take  your  change  !  " 

She  slapped  his  mouth  with  all  that  strength  manual  labor  some- 
times gives  to  women.     The  blow  resounded  like  a  pistol-shot. 

The  coward,  smarting  with  the  pain,  struck  her  with  his  fist. 

The  gallery-gods  raised  the  cry  of  "  fight,"  and  the  officer  present 
arrested  both  Nelly  and  her  degraded  neighbor,  and  passed  them 
over  to  the  same  policeman  who  had  shown  Nelly  to  the  galler>'- 
door. 

They  were  marched  to  a  station-house,  followed  by  a  motley 
crowd. 

Indifference  and  despair  now  seized  upon  the  orphan  girl — the 
transitional  emotion  from  her  combativeness.  She  gave  up  the  fu- 
ture and  the  past,  cunning  and  repentance,  love  and  hope,  and  stood 
before  the  committing  clerk  or  sergeant,  pale,  beautiful,  and  cold. 

They  took  from  a  cell  the  poor  old  melancholy  Eastern  Shore- 
man, now  sobered  by  mortification,  and  he  testified  that  she  had 
neither  robbed  him  nor  addressed  him,  and  he  wished  to  pay  her 
fine,  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

Nelly  refused  his  kindness  with  contempt. 

"  I  don't  want  to  keep  you  here  all  night,"  the  committing  offi- 
cial said,  "  nor  do  I  want  to  turn  you  out,  lest  you  might  do  worse. 


336  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

This  seems  to  have  been  your  first  appearance  in  that  part  of  the 
theatre.     Give  your  name  !  " 

"  Never,"  replied  Nelly  Harbaugh.  "  I  have  only  gone  to  the 
theatre  and  protected  myself.  This  exposure  is  ruin  enough.  I  will 
answer  nothing." 

The  police  people  began  to  feel  interested  ;  but  the  girl  saw  that 
their  pity  was  not  for  one  they  supposed  to  be  respectable.  Her 
motive  to  go  alone  to  the  theatre  was  above  their  understanding, 
she  perceived  ;  and  thus  the  purest  motive  which  could  inspire  so 
bold  and  ignorant  a  step — the  motive  of  pure  intellect — had  brought 
her  to  the  inexplicable  depths  of  a  false  position. 

The  brilliant  scene  at  the  theatre  an  instant  before,  the  splendid 
adventure  of  woman  in  Portia,  to  take  a  lawyer's  part,  the  late  ela- 
tion of  spirits  and  of  ambition  in  Nelly,  had  been  like  the  lightning 
at  the  precipice,  hurling  woman  deeper  down. 

A  sense  of  universal  injustice  swept  over  the  poor  stranger. 
Her  lover  had  refused  to  consider  her  intellectual  nature ;  her  father 
had  abandoned  her ;  her  very  name  was  not  her  own,  but  her  poor 
mother's  maiden  legacy. 

"  If  you  will  not  tell  your  name  you  must  stand  committed  for 
disorderly  conduct.  I  do  not  insist  what  name  you  shall  give,"  the 
kindly  official  said. 

The  rough,  real  interest  in  his  tones,  and  other  compassionate 
eyes  looking  on,  swayed  her  fierce  feelings,  and  she  could  neither 
advance  nor  recede. 

"  Oh  !  cowards,  men  everywhere  !  "  she  cried,  in  a  gush  of  tears 
and  passion,  and  throwing  her  head  upon  the  rail  that  barred  her 
from  the  clerk,  her  hair  fell  to  the  floor  like  Jupiter's  insidious  shower 
of  gold. 

Strong,  firm  steps  came  up  the  bare  floor. 

A  voice  spoke  to  the  magistrate :  "  Here  is  a  mistake,  or  an  out- 
rage !     What  charge  is  against  this  lady  }  " 

"  I  have  offered  to  release  her  if  she  will  give  her  name.  She 
will  not  give  even  a  false  name." 

"  I  will  answer  for  her.  It  is  a  respectable  girl  from  the  country, 
unacquainted  with  the  city's  spoiled  places,  and  desiring  nothing 
worse  than  to  see  a  play  at  my  invitation.  Take  down  the  name  of 
Miss  Nelly  Starr,  of  Belair,  Harford  county." 

She  turned  and  saw  the  fine,  intrepid  face,  and  graceful,  genteel 
figure  of  John  Booth. 


STRAY  EiVDS. 


337 


"  My  deliverer!  My  only  friend  !  "  cried  Nelly,  held  in  his  mus- 
cular arms  and  respectfully  drawn  to  his  breast,  like  Jessica  to 
Lorenzo,  and  kissed  once  in  manly  compassion  with  the  barest 
tremor  of  affection. 

"  Enter  Miss  Starr's  name.  Discharged  on  Mr.  John  Wilkes 
Booth's  recognizance  !  Take  this  man  Logan's  fine,  and  throw  him 
out  of  the  building !  " 

As  Logan  passed  Nelly  and  Mr.  Booth  on  the  street,  his  chagrin  of 
animal  and  social  expectations  vented  itself  in  one  unfortunate  remark : 

"  Run  away  with  a  fancy  actor,  heigh  }  " 

Booth  had  knocked  him  into  the  street  before  his  sentence  was 
well  finished. 

"  Kill  him  !  kill  him !  "  commanded  the  girl,  her  intense  feel- 
ings breaking  in  the  fierce  shout  for  blood  and  reparation. 

The  slave-catcher  was  followed  up  by  the  actor's  cool,  enjoying, 
and  skilled  pugilism,  tumbled  over  every  time  he  arose,  headed  off 
at  every  point  of  escape,  and  finally  he  ran  back  into  the  station- 
house  for  protection. 

"  Do  you  know  that  he  has  bruised  your  face — the  coward  ! " 
Booth  said,  panting,  as  he  walked  along.  "Your  friends  can't  see 
you  for  a  week  with  that  scar.  The  officer  at  the  theatre  had  sent 
for  me,  suspecting  that  you  had  made  a  mistake  in  going  into  that 
vile  gallery,  Nelly,  and  he  said  you  mentioned  my  name  to  him. 
How  natural  that  you  should  think  of  me ;  for  you  have  been  in  my 
mind  all  day  !     Come  in  !  " 

He  led  the  way  into  an  oyster-house,  and  to  a  private  room  up 
,the  stairs.     She  thanked  him  with  gratitude  and  pride. 

"  You,  John — to  think  of  me  with  all  your  prospects  and  acquaint- 
ances.?   Oh,  is  it  true,  or  made  believe  ?  " 

"  I  love  you,"  replied  the  actor,  in  tones  low  and  firm,  articulated 
like  chimes  of  steel,  and  his  dark  eyes  shining  the  eloquence  of 
passion.  "  I  feel  my  fate  in  your  untrained  and  strong  maturity.  You 
can  not  evade  me,  Nelly.  I  demand  that  you  feel  my  will  and  love 
me,  now." 

He  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  held  her  off,  and  looked  his 
strength  and  gentleness  together,  and  slowly  drew  her  to  him. 

"  I  have  earned  a  kiss  of  real  affection.     I  must  have  it." 

He  clasped  her  to  his  athletic  frame,  still  in  the  manly  tingling 
of  the  conflict  with  her  enemy,  and  ardent  with  victory  and  invincible 
masculine  resolution. 
15 


338 


JCATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


The  old  gun  of  her  father  was  not  above  the  door ;  her  strength 
of  citadel  and  rural  independence  was  gone.  He  kissed  her  in  her 
betrothed  one's  place  and  with  a  betrothed  one's  confidence. 

"  You»  name  is  Nelly  Starr  hereafter ;  for  you  are  to  be  my  star, 
and  play  such  parts  as  Portia  to  me.  I  am  going  to  Belair  to 
study,  and  you  shall  be  my  pupil  there  ;  and  so  I  gave  your  residence 
to  the  police  as  at  that  haunt  of  my  childhood  where  our  family 
grew  up.  All  arrangements  are  made.  I  am  to  be  the  only  Booth 
in  the  Southern  States,  and  make  my  fortune  there. — Waiter,  some 
wine  and  terrapin  !  " 

"  You  do  admire  me,  John  ?     Can  you  even  love  me  ?  " 

"  I  swear,  Nelly,  to  be  devoted  to  you  alone — to  lay  my  youth 
before  your  beauty,  and  to  cherish  and  worship  you  !  All  that  you 
can  learn  shall  be  taught  you.  All  the  career  I  can  reach,  you  shall 
share  and  conquer  in ;  but  my  admiration  is  not  equal  to  my  love. 
Your  stalwart  beauty  has  been  walking  in  my  dreams  like  the  long 
shadow  you  cast  upon  the  valley  as  you  walk  at  sunrise  on  your 
mountains.  Begin  the  world  anew,  with  people  worthy  of  your 
queenly  endowments  and  a  gentleman  for  your  lord  and  knight ;  and 
that  the  disgraceful  past  may  be  forever  behind  you,  come  to  my 
arms  and  heart  at  once,  with  faith  and  perfect  love  !  " 

It  was  not  yet  day  at  Abel  Quantrell's  residence  when  Luther 
Bosler  came  down  the  stairs  with  Katy,  his  to-be-banished  sister, 
and  wondering  where  Nelly  could  be. 

Light  Pittson  came  out  of  the  library  to  meet  them. 

"  Has  she  not  returned  ?  "  Light  queried.  "  I  have  waited  all 
night  to  let  her  in.     There  is  some  one  knocking  now." 

She  opened  the  door,  and  a  boy  appeared  with  a  letter  for  Miss 
Kate  Bosler. 

"  Oh,  gracious  !  read  it.  Miss  Light,"  spoke  Katy ;  "  I  can't  read 
writing  fery  well.     It  must  be  from  Lloyd." 

Light  turned  up  the  lamp,  and  Katy  read  these  blurred,  mis- 
spelled lines : 

"  Darling,  good-by !  I  expect  some  day  to  be  your  sister,  when 
Luther  loves  me  more  than  money  and  his  Dunker  dunces.  Tell 
him  he  can  not  become  so  ambitious,  but  I  will  try  to  rise  worthy 
of  him  in  mind ;  for  God  knows  I  shall  love  him  forever,  whether  I 
be  good  or  evil.  Nelly." 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  PROBATION. 


339 


Luther  stood  with  his  whip  in  hand  and  robe  across  his  arm, 
staggering-  and  pale  against  the  door. 

'*  She  has  gone,"  he  said ;  "  I  am  punished  for  loving  money  too 
sinfully.  Hannah  Ritner  predicted  te  yellow  star  would  fade  at 
morn.     It  is  just  morning,  Katy.     I  feel  my  heart  is  proken  !  " 

He  was  comforted  in  the  arms  of  Katy  and  of  Light  Pittson. 

"  I  will  kiss  you  a  better  morning,  dear  friend,"  Light  Pittson 
said,  '*  and  a  wife  more  worthy  of  your  sincere  nature." 

With  that  kiss  upon  his  brow,  Luther  drove  out  of  Baltimore, 
silent  and  resigned,  yet  with  a  great  emptiness  in  his  breast. 

He  did  not  know  that  from  an  upper  window,  as  he  went  by, 
Nelly  Harbaugh  was  gazing  down,  at  hollow  dawn,  with  streaming 
eyes  and  misery  unrelieved  by  resignation. 


CHAPTER   XXXHL 

LOVE'S   FIERCE   PROBATION. 

The  executions  at  Charlestown  ended  in  the  middle  of  March, 
i860,  with  Stevens  and  Hazlett  going  manfully  to  death.  Three 
months  before  this,  four  of  Brown's  men  were  executed  in  one  day 
— the  two  negroes.  Green  and  Copeland,  an  hour  earlier  than  Cook 
and  Ned  Coppock.  These  latter,  the  night  before  death,  made  an 
attempt  to  escape,  which  might  have  been  successful  but  for  the 
accident  of  Quantrell,  Booth,  and  Atzerodt  being  in  an  office  across 
the  way,  amusing  some  friends. 

Quantrell  had  Katy  Bosler's  accordion,  playing  airs,  and  Booth 
recited  ballads  and  scraps  from  plays,  while  Atzerodt  was  the  cup- 
bearer, and  ran  errands  to  the  tavern.     He  came  up-stairs,  crjing : 

"  Py  Jing !  I  saw  a  man's  head  git  on  te  jail-wall  !  " 

Booth,  who  had  made  the  punishment  of  these  men  a  fierce  if 
gratuitous  duty,  at  once  ran  down  and  notified  the  guard.  A  watch 
was  set,  and  this  time  two  heads  instead  of  one  appeared,  and  a 
man,  identified  by  all  as  Cook,  leaped  on  the  wall,  and  was  menaced 
by  the  guard  below  with  his  bayonet. 

"  Jump  on  him,  John,  and  bear  him  to  the  ground  !  "  the  whisper 
of  Coppock  came  up  from  the  jail-yard. 


340 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN 


Cook  hesitated,  and  the  guard  also  seemed  dazed. 

"  Let  them  escape,  boys,"  Quantrell  whispered,  where  he  and  his 
companions  crouched  together;  "think  how  young  they  are,  like 
ourselves !     That  guard  may  have  been  tampered  with." 

"  No,  sir,"  Booth  retorted,  "  no  mercy  to  them  !  "  but,  before  he 
could  raise  the  alarm,  Atzerodt,  with  the  avarice  for  a  reward, 
sprang  up  and  shouted  : 

"  You  tam  guard,  why  don't  you  fire  ?  " 

"  Murder  !     Escape  !    Treason  !  "  cried  Booth. 

The  guard  now  threatened  the  prisoners,  and  they  dropped  be- 
hind the  wall,  while  Charlestown  streets  filled  with  excited  soldiery 
and  civilians. 

It  was  reported  that  these  two  lads  had  used  their  knives  and 
forks  to  dig  through  the  jail-wall ;  but  Quantrell  suspected  other- 
wise, from  an  incident  which  took  place  after  the  execution. 

Certain  women  from  the  North,  in  spite  of  all  precautions,  by 
patience  and  refined  address,  had  obtained  communication  with  the 
prisoners.  Among  these  had  been  Hannah  Ritner,  and  Quantrell 
met  her  the  night  after  the  executions,  when  vigilance  was  relaxed 
and  conviviality  had  succeeded  the  panic.  She  was  at  one  of  the 
hotels  in  Harper's  Ferry,  and  had  assisted  to  reclaim  the  forfeited 
bodies.  Her  name  was  a  fictitious  one  upon  the  register ;  but  Lloyd, 
who  had  endeavored  to  wnderstand  her  in  vain,  took  Booth  to  call 
on  her  after  a  horseback- ride  past  Mr,  Beall's. 

She  was  sad  and  troubled.  The  errand  she  had  come  upon  was 
not  these  poor,  staring  dead,  but  their  living  forms,  and  malice  had 
intervened.  She  heard  the  tale— how  Cook  and  Coppock  had  reached 
on  the  gallows  for  each  other's  hands,  and  said  good-by  affection- 
ately on  the  brink  of  the  dark  unknown  ;  and  she  heard,  trembling, 
how  Booth  and  Atzerodt  had  discovered  their  attempt  to  escape, 
while  Quantrell  "  weakened,"  and  desired  not  to  intercept  them. 

At  this  moment  Atzerodt,  who  had  become  an  intolerable  para- 
site of  the  two  young  men.  made  his  way  to  the  room,  and  stood 
confounded  to  see,  in  the  full  dress  of  a  Quaker  lady,  the  prophetess 
of  the  mountains. 

"  Py  Jing  !  "  he  muttered — "  te  witch  of  Shmoketown  ! " 

"  You  have  asked  me  more  than  once  to  tell  your  fortune,  An- 
drew Atzerodt,"  the  dark  and  passion-possessed  woman  exclaimed, 
rising.  "  I  never  supposed,  till  cruelty  took  possession  of  your  frail 
and  prating  nature,  that  Fate  had  the  least  concern  in  you.     Hold 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  PROBATION.  ^41 

out  your  hand,  sir  !— And  you  two  gentlemen  as  well !  The  oppor- 
tunity is  condign." 

She  meant  Booth,  Beall,  and  Ouantrell. 

They  extended  their  hands.  She  looked  the  palms  over,  and  the 
faces  as  well,  and  labored  within  herself  like  a  Pythoness  in  pain. 
Then,  beginning  with  Ouantrell,  she  spoke  these  lines,  at  the  outset 
tenderly,  but,  in  the  sequel,  to  Lloyd's  companions,  with  a  haughty 
power  above  all  plays  and  players  : 

"  He  whose  heart  to  pity  swells, 
In  his  fever  shall  spring  wells  I 
Who  their  tears  ungenerous  stop, 
Shall  feel,  burning,  but  one  drop  ! 
'  Water  !  water  I '  cry  they,  '  Lord  ! ' — - 
In  the  fire  and  on  the  cord  !" 

She  ended  with  her  dark  hair  raveling  through  her  distraught 
fingers,  and  her  arms  spread  wide,  as  if  she  implored  the  vision  she 
described  in  rhyme. 

"  Come  away !  "  muttered  Atzerodt,  in  terror ;  "  she  has  fits,  and 
pites  beople  ! " 

"  Truly  a  nice,  comforting  hostess,"  added  Booth,  undisturbed  ; 
"  but  I  never  did  like  above  a  drop  of  water,  and,  as  for  the  cord, 
we'll  ring  it  for  a  bottle  of  whisky." 

Edgar  Pittson  had  been  almost  as  true  a  prophet  as  Hannah 
Ritner.  Scarcely  had  the  last  man  been  hanged  in  Virginia,  when 
the  Democratic  party  convention  of  all  the  Union  was  held  at 
Charleston  in  South  Carolina,  and  the  slave  States  withdrew,  be- 
cause they  could  not  make  a  President  to  force  slavery  into  Kansas, 
whence  John  Brown  and  his  sons  had  expelled  it.  This  convention 
adjourned  to  Baltimore,  but,  before  it  reconvened,  Abraham  Lincoln 
had  been  nominated  by  the  young  Republican  party  in  the  nearly 
as  obscure  city  of  Chicago. 

Another  world  had  grown  up  beyond  the  termination  of  the  old 
Maryland  National  Road,  and  all  the  presidential  candidates,  four  in 
number— of  whom  three  received  their  nominations  in  Baltimore — 
were  from  this  West— Lincoln,  Douglas,  Breckenridge,  Bell.  The 
loins  of  free  labor  tnade  such  increase,  that  counting  slaves  as  votes 
had  ceased  to  be  a  counterpoise. 

Ever  since  Presidents  of  the  United  States  had  been  nominated 
by  delegate  or  popular  conventions,  Baltimore  city  had  been  the 


342 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


party  focus  of  the  Union,  and  the  seat  of  nearly  all  such  conventions. 
The  day  of  its  prestige  was  over  when,  at  the  theatre  where  Nelly 
lost  her  content,  the  slave  States  again  seceded  from  the  convention 
there,  by  whose  verdict  they  had  agreed  honorably  to  abide,  and 
there  the  majority  set  up  a  Western  man. 

Maryland  cast  her  electoral  vote  for  the  extension  of  slavery  into 
the  free  public  domain,  the  great  remainder  of  her  votes  going  to 
the  candidate  of  parleying  and  powwowing  on  the  subject,  and  only 
twenty-two  hundred  and  ninety-four  votes,  out  of  above  ninety-two 
thousand,  being  cast  in  Maryland  for  Lincoln,  the  victor. 

Maryland,  indeed,  had  always  lacked  a  coherent  public  character, 
and  was  a  fortuitous  settlement  rather  than  a  moral  undertaking, 
and  no  general  fact  had  disturbed  her  monotony  in  two  centuries, 
but  Baltimore. 

This  powerful  new  city,  lying  across  the  gateway  to  the  Federal 
capital,  had  consulted  its  momentary  interests  and  decided  against 
drawing  the  line  of  freedom  down  a  little  way,  so  as  to  stand  upon 
it ;  and  only  one  great  and  passionate  citizen  of  Baltimore,  educated 
at  a  college  of  the  far  West,  saw  where  his  native  State  should  take 
her  place. 

Mr.  Henr}^  Winter  Davis,  who  has  already  appeared  in  this  story, 
advocated  the  union  of  his  party  with  Mr.  Lincoln's  party,  and 
sneered  at  the  decision  of  the  Maryland  chief  justice,  who  had  argued 
out  the  pro-slavery  tenet  of  the  Supreme  Court,  as  '*  a  ridiculous 
farrago  of  bad  history,  worse  law,  and  low  partisanship." 

If  there  was  the  equal  of  Henry  Winter  Davis  on  the  other  side, 
he  is  not  to  be  found  among  Marj^land's  public  men.  The  nearest 
approach  to  him  in  self-contained  purpose,  deep  and  silent  passion, 
mental  courage,  and  haughty  ambition,  was  John  Wilkes  Booth. 

As  Mr.  Davis  had  learned  in  the  West  the  forgotten  realities  of 
freedom,  Mr.  Booth  had  learned  in  the  South  the  spirit  that  stood 
ready  to  reopen  the  African  slave-trade,  as  Henry  Winter  Davis  had 
declared,  months  before  the  raid  of  John  Brown,  saying :  "  The 
preparation  of  men's  minds  for  the  grand  end  has  already  begun, 
either  consciously  or  unconsciously.  The  great  English  experiment 
of  emancipation  is  loudly  proclaimed  a  failure.  The  party  of  the 
South  is  ready  to  make  the  issue :  repeal  of  the  laws  against  the 
slave-trade,  or  Rebellion  !  " 

Booth  had  no  training  nor  regular  profession,  was  a  very  young 
man,  and  his  intellectual  nature  was  narrow ;  but  he  possessed  more 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  PROBATION. 


343 


than  the  average  maturity  of  persons  of  his  traditions,  and,  to  use 
the  expression  of  one  who  knew  him  from  childhood,  "  he  was  all 
man  from  the  child,  and  the  feet,  up."  * 

If  his  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  civilized  principles  was  no 
greater  than  the  constraints  and  illusions  of  an  actor  and  an  actor's 
son,  they  were  as  real  as  the  understanding  of  any  of  those  who 
expected  to  return  America  to  Asiatic  conditions,  and  then  bully 
Europe  out  of  her  attitude  toward  slavery.  Booth's  habits  were  as 
good  as  the  young  men's  around  him,  his  manners  were  generally 
better,  his  loyalty  to  friendship  and  to  locality  unquestioned,  indeed, 
reputed ;  and  he  had  those  powers  valued  by  savage  and  statesman 
— still  confidence,  and  "  the  still  hunt." 

He  had  not  only  kept  Nelly  Harbaugh's  confidence,  but  Lloyd 
Quantrell  was  convinced  that  he  did  not  know  where  she  had  gone, 
and  no  imputing  of  the  girl's  principle  or  virtue  would  extract  from 
Booth  a  retort. 

"  He  can  not  be  her  lover,"  Lloyd  reasoned,  "  and  not  resent 
things  said  against  her,  at  least  by  his  looks." 

In  like  silence  and  still-craft.  Booth  took  Lloyd  during  that  spring 
to  the  village  of  Belair,  half  a  day's  ride  by  horse  to  the  north, 
where  Booth  essayed  to  study  his  father's  old  parts — in  order  to 
"  star  "  them  in  the  South — at  a  long,  quaint  tavern  with  a  swinging 
sign  in  a  retired  corner  of  the  court-house  square.  Nelly  Starr,  as 
she  is  henceforth  to  be  known,  was  looking  down  on  Lloyd  Quan- 
trell from  her  play-book,  and  he  never  suspected  her  to  be  near. 

Precocious  in  his  coolness  and  in  his  trespasses.  Booth  listened 
more  than  he  spoke ;  yet,  when  he  was  gone,  his  friend  always  felt 
lonesome. 

His  moral  standard  was  purely  traditional :  to  hate  "  meanness," 
to  defend  women,  to  resent  insult,  to  stand  by  all  his  own  family ; 
and  yet,  he  was  not  open  in  his  nature  as  he  appeared,  coveted  the 
pearl  of  woman's  honor,  seldom  elevated  any  companion's  nature, 
in  his  appetites  was  predatory,  and  often  low  in  his  affiliations.  He 
seldom  tolerated  his  equals  from  the  stage,  but  would  take  mere 
vagrants  up  and  use  them  for  his  willful  rides  and  strolls.  He  had 
joined  a  volunteer  company,  of  anti-national  bias,  at  Belair,  and  was 
full  of  warlike  thoughts  and  feats  of  prowess. 

He  took  Quantrell  to  his  birthplace,  on  the  road  to  the  Susque- 
hanna— a  clearing  in  a  dry  forest,  with  a  ditch  for  scenery,  and  no 
*  John  E.  Owen,  comedian. 


344 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


other  improvements  than  a  small  Gothic  cottage,  itself  erected  by  a 
filial-minded  son,  and  not  by  Booth's  erratic  father;  yet  John  Booth 
was  deeply  attached  to  this  spot,  and  he  carried  Ouantrell  to  the 
Priest's  Ford  of  Deer  Creek,  to  look  at  the  massive-walled  ancient 
priest's  house  on  a  hill-top,  and  to  the  Bald  Friar's  view  of  the  great 
Susquehanna  River  falling  in  miles  of  rocks  and  foam  to  the  pale 
lagoon  of  the  Chesapeake.  The  bandit  haunt,  as  it  seemed,  of  the 
rock  Pass  of  Deer  Creek,  the  young  men  visited ;  and  in  their  com- 
pany were  the  two  Baltimore  friends  of  Booth,  Sam  Arnold  and 
Mike  O'Laughlin,  impecunious,  commonplace  followers,  quite  below 
Booth's  fine  appearance,  emulousness,  and  reserve. 

Lloyd  asked  his  father  to  account  for  some  of  the  contrarieties 
in  his  friend.     Abel  Quantrell  said  : 

"  I  have  known  three  generations  of  these  Booths — old  Richard, 
the  grandfather;  Junius  Brutus,  the  immigrant ;  and  the  present  boys. 
You  can  see,  my  son,  from  the  swelling  name  of  the  second  Booth, 
that  the  vagary  was  in  old  Dick,  his  father.  He  was  full  of  brood- 
ing self-esteem,  and  seldom  spoke  to  anybody  here,  but  left  a  bom- 
bastic diary  behind  him.  He  claimed  to  be  kin  of  John  Wilkes,  of 
London  ;  and  so  the  young  fellow  whom  you  affect  is  named  for  that 
first  of  modem  blackguards,  who  created  a  political  reputation  by  the 
worst  vices  of  the  press.  The  square  root  of  his  endeavor  was  self- 
indulgence  and  the  love  of  notoriety.  The  cube  of  the  personalities 
he  invented  in  Anglo-Saxon  politics  is  the  discouragement  and  deg- 
radation of  public  life." 

"  Why,  father,  Johnny  says  he  was  a  great  patriot  and  friend  of 
America." 

"  Sho  I  W^e  are  not  so  weak  that  we  must  be  grateful  to  every 
foreign  vaporer.  I  will  tell  you,  Lloyd,  how  John  Wilkes  became 
our  friend.  Aspiring  to  aristocratic  place  and  society,  his  domestic 
cruelty  and  licentiousness  disqualified  him.  He  was  a  parvenu 
distiller's  son,  and  he  set  up  a  press,  subsidized  by  the  discharged 
ministers  of  a  young  king,  to  attack  their  successor.  How  did  he 
do  it  ?  Let  the  outraged  republic  of  human  nature  answer !  He 
accused  the  king's  widowed  mother  of  being  the  minister's  mistress  ; 
and  the  minister  being  a  Scotchman,  he  harangued  the  vulgar  in- 
tolerance of  the  English  against  the  Scotch.  From  that  hour  dis- 
gusting personality  has  been  the  favorite  dagger  of  the  political  as- 
sassin." 

Abel  Quantrell  arose  and  put  his  hand  in  his  bosom,  and  leaned 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  PROBATION.  345 

with  the  other  whitened  hand  upon  his  stick,  while  resentment 
against  oppression  made  the  line  of  his  firm-shut  mouth  against  the 
straight  lines  of  his  nose  and  chin   the  skyey  cross  of  chivalry. 

"  Lloyd,"  he  said,  "  beware  how  you  impute  evil  to  the  domestic 
misunderstandings  of  your  fellow-man  !  It  is  deadly  homicide,  and 
God  will  punish  it.  The  eagle  flies  in  heaven  unchallenged  and 
admired ;  the  war-horse  bears  his  rider  in  the  good  fight,  and  no 
inquisition  is  ever  made  into  the  secrets  of  his  stall ;  but  man  in  full 
career,  nobly  serving  his  species,  finds  his  nest  invaded  in  his  ab- 
sence by  the  weasel  and  the  crow.  A  crime  is  contrived  out  of 
some  aberration  of  love  or  nuptial  confidence,  and  the  scandal-sub- 
sisting world  rejoices  until  its  own  turn  comes,  when  Heaven's  great 
Drummond-light  will  prove,  at  last,  the  widest  tyranny  to  be  hy- 
pocrisy." 

"  Father,"  said  the  son,  "  you  believe  that  love  should  be  pure  ?  " 
"  Pure  as  this  earth  can  yield  it.  It  comes  like  the  seed  from  the 
ground — in  the  act  of  life  distilling  its  corruption.  But  Jesus  could 
not  preach  without  some  imputation  on  his  birth,  nor  Mohammed 
marry  Zeinab  without  the  reflections  of  his  guests.  There  is  no 
boundary  to  prurient  and  idle  curiosity.  It  spins  into  its  daily  web 
the  heart-strings  of  the  wounded,  and  the  wickedest  of  its  torture- 
chambers  is  the  modern  scandal-press,  founded  by  John  Wilkes  and 
his  fellow-debauchees.  Mixing  in  his  quarrel  the  cause  of  America, 
I  fear  his  bad  example  is  in  our  types  and  presses.  From  Britain 
came  the  vituperative  Jacobin  writers  who  made  public  life  unen- 
durable to  Washington  himself — the  Paines  and  Callenders,  who 
could  not  worship  liberty  without  private  hate  and  mercenary  defa- 
mation." 

"  But,  father,  was  this  Richard  Booth  a  brilliant  writer,  too  7  " 
"  Sho !  No.  He  allowed  his  son  to  support  him,  and  his  only 
talent  was  his  reticence.  The  theatrical  life  is  no  help  to  an  un- 
balanced intellect,  as  old  Booth,  the  actor,  proved.  He  was  an 
imitator  of  Kean,  who  was,  like  many  on  the  English  stage,  the 
progeny  of  the  lawless  nobleman  and  the  actress.  The  pride  of  the 
aristocrat  and  the  assumption  of  his  favorite  is  in  many  an  earlier 
Booth  and  Wilkes,  whose  records  run  back  to  the  triumphs  of  Nell 
Gwynn.*     The   actor,  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  aspired  to  rival  the 

*  It  is  not  known  that  Robert  Wilkes  and  Barton  Booth  were  of  the  stock 
of  John  Wilkes  and  Richard  Booth.  The  former  actor,  grandson  of  a  Cavalier 
judge,  flourished  about  1700,  in  London  ;  and  Barton  Booth  claimed  to  be  of 


346 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIiV. 


gypsy  genius  of  Edmund  Kean  in  England,  and  came  to  America  to 
forestall  him.  They  arrived  nearly  at  the  same  time — both  little  men, 
greedy  of  fame,  both  wrecked  by  appetites,  and  each  left  one  son 
to  distinguish  the  name  and  walk  highly.  Young  Ned,  our  neigh- 
bor, has  seen  his  father's  errors  of  life  and  art,  and  imitated  neither ; 
but,  by  study  and  hardship,  has  made  a  bright  and  original  name. 
John  Wilkes,  your  chum,  expects  to  out-Herod  his  father,  and  vault 
to  celebrity  as  he  vaults  the  bars  at  his  gymnasium." 

"  Father,  you  are  too  harsh.  John  Booth  has  an  affectionate 
heart." 

"  That  he  drew  from  a  martyr  mother,  one  of  the  best  of  neigh- 
bors ;  but  the  son's  affection  is  in  the  sequel,  and  we  shall  see  what 
his  precocious  obduracy  and  indulgence  will  leave  her  in  the  residue 
of  days.  The  cube  of  a  child-like  nature  is  manhood  ;  the  cube  of 
the  premature  man  must  be  either  angel  or  fiend." 

The  old  man  hesitated. 

"Speak,  father;  it  is  pleasant  to  obey  you." 

A  tear  ran  down  Lloyd's  face. 

"  I  know  the  price  you  are  paying,  my  son,"  Abel  Quantrell  said, 
"  and  I  will  lay  no  further  commands  upon  you ;  not  even  " — his 
voice  broke  and  his  eye  glazed  a  moment — "  to  hear  the  call  of  your 
country,  when  mere  locality  and  reaction  beat  the  drum  in  your  na- 
tive streets  !  But,  Lloyd,  you  have  sinister  companions,  who  will  in- 
vite you  to  conduct  irregular  and  partisan  warfare.  Never  do  it ! 
Go  join  the  open  enemy,  if  you  will,  but  never  lurk  within  the  lines, 
in  Maryland,  and  be  a  spy  and  a  villain." 

"  Father,  do  you  approve  of  John  Brown's  methods  ?  " 

"  No.  Senator  Pittson  was  right.  I  antagonized  him  because  I 
took  a  woman's  part." 

"  Father,  who  is  Hannah  Ritner  ?  " 

"  My  son,  she  is  a  woman  in  politics.  But  she  is  also  a  woman 
in  mercy." 

Had  Abel  Quantrell  permitted  his  son  to  love,  he  would  have 
let  politics  alone  in  that  critical  year  of  i860;  but,  kept  from  Katy, 

the  Earl  of  Warrington's  stock,  and  was  the  hero  in  Addison's  "  Cato,"  about 
1 713.  His  first  wife  was  a  baronet's  daughter,  and  his  second  a  dancer.  Ed- 
mund Kean,  if  not  a  duke's  son  by  an  actress,  was  the  illegitimate  descendant 
of  another  nobleman.  Richard  Booth  applied  to  Arthur  Lee  for  a  commis- 
sion in  the  American  army,  at  the  age  of  twenty  ;  and  his  father,  John  Booth, 
called  John  Wilkes  "the  sacred  protector  of  freedom." 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  PROBATION. 


347 


and  sent  into  influential  society,  he  imbibed  the  violent  feelings  of 
social  Maryland,  where  free  speech  was  confined  to  the  mountain 
counties,  and  a  convention  of  the  Republican  party  could  not  be 
held. 

Two  such  local  conventions,  four  years  apart,  were  mobbed — the 
last  of  them  assembled  by  the  subsequent  Maryland  member  of  Mr. 
Lincoln's  Cabinet ;  and  when  Mr.  Lincoln's  wife  and  young  children 
came  through  Baltimore,  "  an  immense  crowd  with  groans  and  hoot- 
mgs  "  *  received  the  Chief  Magistrate-elect  of  their  country,  as  they 
supposed,  but  he,  advised  by  wisdom,  had  passed  through  Baltimore 
at  night,  a  matter  of  infinite  jest  to  the  ignorant  scribblers  there  ;  but 
the  murderous  spirit  that  followed  him  to  "Washington  and  used  the 
hospitality  of  a  Baltimorean's  theatre  to  destroy  him,  was  in  that 
same  hooting  crowd  he  had  avoided. 

It  was  the  murder  of  free  speech  and  the  slavery  of  opinion 
which  took  Maryland  into  the  vortex  of  loss  and  folly ;  for  had 
meetings  and  debate  been  free  during  the  few  years  of  inquiry,  the 
paltry  two  thousand  slaves  held  in  Baltimore  would  never  have  been 
the  masters  of  the  city. 

Negro-traders,  like  Abel  Quantrell's  brother,  dictated  the  rea- 
soning of  jurists  and  the  consciences  of  theologians.  All  heaven, 
in  that  most  gentle  atmosphere,  displayed  of  eve  the  Star-spangled 
Banner  in  the  skies  of  the  Chesapeake,  but  the  sons  of  them  for 
whom  the  national  anthem  had  been  made,  tolerated  in  their  streets 
the  paroquet  colors  of  South  Carolina,  and  received  her  "  embas- 
sador" when  the  heir  of  Washington  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head. 

The  Eastern  Shore,  more  loyal  to  its  plain  ancestry,  had  fur- 
nished the  Governor  of  Maryland  in  that  perilous  time,  and  he, 
guided  by  Henry  Winter  Davis,  refused  to  convene  the  State  Legis- 
lature— the  conspirators'  method  of  capturing  unwilling  States- 
first  to  draw  Joseph  away  from  home,  and  next  to  sell  him  to 
Egypt,  and  last,  to  show  his  bloody  and  ravished  garment  of  bright 
colors  at  the  desolate  door  of  his  fathers. 

In  this  way  Virginia  was  betrayed  by  beleaguering  her  Legisla- 
ture and  convention  around  with  murderers,  like  those  who  had 
gone  to  Islamize  Kansas ;  and  when  Virginia  surrendered,  the  war 
passed  on  to  her  soil,  and  left  Maryland  a  sullen  or  frightened  host- 

*  A  rebel  history  of  Maryland,  1879. 


348  ATA  TV  OF  CATOCTIN. 

age  in  the  Union,  with  brave  soldiers  here  and  there,  but  many  a 
chronic  Thersites  or  Caliban. 

Lloyd  Quantrell's  year  of  banishment  from  Katy  expired  as  Vir- 
ginia gave  up  the  ghost.  With  a  hungry  and  troubled  heart  he  took 
the  railway  for  the  Catoctin  country,  hearing,  as  he  left  Baltimore, 
the  insensate  salutes  on  the  Federal  Hill  for  the  secession  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  the  capture  of  Fort  Sumter  by  South  Carolina. 

Uncertain  where  to  find  a  conveyance  among  the  little  towns 
along  the  Potomac,  Lloyd  continued  on  to  Harper's  Ferr}',  and 
found  everything  there  in  confusion  ;  the  people  were  for  the  Gov- 
ernment which  employed  them,  but  the  Government  superintendent 
had  gone  off  to  Richmond  and  assisted  to  vote  for  secession,  and 
rival  sentinels  were  patrolling  the  place. 

At  midnight  the  State  troops  were  entering  Harper's  Ferry  from 
Charlestown,  when  the  small  guard  of  the  armories  crossed  the 
bridge  to  Maryland,  and  an  explosion  echoed  along  the  hollow 
mountains  and  lighted  their  gloomy  countenances  with  the  glow 
of  the  resurrection-day ;  the  splendid  workshops  were  riven  to 
pieces,  and,  as  the  flames  climbed  the  Rifle-works,  the  bell  in  the 
falling  tower  was  heard  to  ring  as  it  went  down  into  the  ruins. 

"  There,  there  !  Do  you  hear  it  ?  "  a  voice  said  at  Quantrell's 
elbow.  "  It's  a-waiting  for  me.  It's  a-ringing  for  me.  I  can't  git 
to  it.     Oh,  I'm  gone  clar  off  of  my  Americanus !  " 

Leaving  this  old  "  suck  "  of  a  ruin  on  foot,  Quantrell  walked  to 
Middletown.  Excitement  over  the  destruction  of  the  country,  and 
the  probable  invasion  of  their  border  realm,  stopped  all  the  usual 
facilities  and  conveyances,  and  it  w^as  evening  before  Lloyd  reached 
Hosier's  farm. 

The  spotted  setter  he  had  given  to  Katy  came  out  and  attacked 
him  vehemently  at  the  gate,  but  Katy  appeared  herself,  and  was 
lifted  and  carried  in  his  mighty  arms. 

How  splendid  she  looked  !  How  more  grown  and  child-wom- 
anly ! 

"  Did  you  expect  me,  darling  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  did.  Luter  and  fader  have  gone  away  and  left 
the  house  to  us,     Nopody  is  here  but  Fader  Fenwick." 

A  sudden  thrill  ran  through  Lloyd  at  this  information. 

"  Katy,"  he  whispered,  drawing  the  yielding  form  deeply  inward, 
"  he  shall  marry  us.     Ncnu,  darling— or  it  may  be  never  !  " 

A  scream  from  Katy  was  hushed  in  a  kiss  of  man's  decision. 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  PROBATION.  349 

*'  Lloyd,  he  won't  marry  us." 

"  Katy,  he  shall !  When  I  demand  it,  you  must  insist.  I  know 
he  is  fond  of  you." 

"  And  of  you,  too,  Lloyd.     Oh,  what  shall  I  do  }  " 

"  Get  us  refreshment,  darling,  and  listen,  and  obey.  To-day  we 
are  free  to  marr)^  To-morrow,  another  promise  may  send  us  apart 
through  the  tumultuous  years  that  have  come." 

"  O  Lloyd,  my  fader ! — and  Luter,  who  is  my  pastor !  What  will 
tey  say  ?  " 

"  Katy,  we  are  past  ever^'body's  saying.  It  is  love  alone  with 
us — the  desire  of  our  hearts,  the  trembling  heaven  above  ;  or  cruel 
pain  and  cowardice  attending  upon  that  world's  consent  which  does 
not  know  love's  desperation.  Take  the  step  with  me!  All  our 
parents  have  taken  it,  and  the  world  is  still  happy ;  birds  singing, 
and  children  everywhere.  The  priest  is  here.  God  may  have  sent 
him.     We  are  here — " 

"  Te  ring !  "  whispered  Katy,  with  superstitious  awe.  "  We 
have  not  got  one." 

"  We  shall  find  one,  if  I  must  make  it  out  of  the  clasp  of  your 
mother's  old  Dutch  Bible  with  the  fire-tongs  !  " 

He  took  her  in.  Hugh  Fenwick  was  reading  his  Directorhim 
Sacerdotale,  and  Lloyd  took  it  up  and  read  of  the  "  vain  cleric," 
who  "  gives  way  to  thoughts  of  self-complacency,"  etc.  The  sugges- 
tion was  not  lost  on  Quantrell's  alert  thought,  resolving  to  take  this 
man  unawares. 

"  Hugh,"  he  said,  as  they  sat  at  the  table,  and  some  of  the 
Dunker  still's  liquor  had  warmed  their  blood,  "  you  must  be  a  full 
priest  now — no  make-believe  ?  And  I  know  you  will  be  a  smart 
one  ! " 

"  Oh !  "  replied  Fenwick,  maturely,  "  I  am  hardly  a  seminarist 
now.  The  fathers  consult  me  on  the  rubrics  and  grave  matters  of 
that  kind." 

"  Have  you  got  an  outfit.  Father  Hugh  }  I  mean  the  gown,  and 
stole,  and  all  that  }  " 

"Oh,  yes;  I've  brought  a  surplice  with  me  and  a  stole.  One 
never  knows  when  he  may  be  called  on  for  unction,  or  bap- 
tism— " 

"  Or  marriage,  too,  I  guess  !  "  cried  Katy,  deadly  pale. 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Lloyd.  "  He  can't  marry  people.  That's  above 
Hugh ! " 


350 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"Oh,  yes;  Tm  qualified,"  said  Fenwick,  blushing;  "  that's  the 
easiest  of  our  duties." 

"  Great  Heaven  !  You  ?  Can  you  be  what  that  noble  old  Friar 
Laurence  was  to  Romeo  and  Juliet  when  secretly  he  married  them 
at  his  cell,  as  they  pleaded — 

'  Both  our  remedies 
Within  thy  help  and  holy  physic  lies. 
I'll  tell  thee  as  we  pass  ;  but  this  I  pray, 
That  thou  consent  to  many  us  this  day '  ? "' 

The  complacent  Hugh  allowed  Quantrell  to  praise  his  robes 
when  they  were  put  on,  and  heard,  with  gratified  vanity,  compli- 
ments upon  his  pulpit  impressiveness. 

"  Hugh,  our  dear,  proved  friend,  I  am  enrolled,  and  sworn  to 
go  to  the  war.  Our  company  leaves  for  Virginia,  probably  this 
week.  Give  me  that  silver  ring  I  see  on  your  finger  as  a  keepsake 
of  you ! " 

Katy  was  listening,  with  her  great  eyes  on  the  rim  of  her  pallid 
face. 

"  Friend  Lloyd,  it  is  a  poor  little  thing ;  take  it !  " 

"  Hugh,  it  is  the  greatest  friendship  you  can  do  in  this  world  but 
one — and  that  you  are  to  do  now.  This  ring  must  unite  Katy  and 
me  this  hour  !  " 

"  Sir,"  remarked  the  seminarist,  with  indignation,  "  this  is  an  im- 
pertinence— a  trick  !  " 

"  No,  our  friend  and  tried  young  father,  it  is  anything  but  that. 
It  is  what  churches  and  marriages  were  made  for — to  sanctify  the 
love  that  is  so  universal.  I  have  but  a  night  to  tarry  here. — The 
time  has  come,  Katy,  when  I,  too,  am  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger. 
Will  this  man  prove  himself  our  friend,  or  forsake  us  when  we  need 
him  first  ?  " 

"  Fader  Hugh,"  Katy  cried,  with  the  impulsiveness  of  despair, 
"  you  said  if  it  efer  was  your  duty,  you  would  pe  te  minister  to  us. 
Lloyd  asks  you  !  " 

"  And  you,  child  !     Dare  you  take  this  step  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  cried  the  girl,  in  a  burst  of  tears ;  "  if  Lloyd's  going  away, 
I  want  him  to  pe  happy.  He  is  te  man,  and  I  guess  he  knows  if 
I'm  doing  right." 

The  dog  Albion,  observing  some  commotion,  barked  vigorously, 
and  gamboled  in  hysterical  delight. 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  PROBATION: 


351 


"  I  fear,"  faltered  Fenwick,  "  that  to  marry  you  is  beyond  my 
powers." 

"  No  more  of  that !  "  Lloyd  Ouantrell  cried  ;  "  you  have  boasted 
of  your  authority  to  marry.  Marry  us;  or  be  a  false  priest  and  a 
false  friend  !  Love's  heavy  necessities  are  above  all  your  churches, 
and  this  is  our  moment  of  anguish.  I  shall  leave  my  wife  in  your 
charge.  If  to  many  us  embarrasses  you  now,  we  can  all  keep  the 
secret  till  better  times." 

"  It  is  absolutely  necessary  to  do  that,"  Hugh  Fenwick  said. 
"  Promise,  both  of  you,  never  to  reveal  this  ceremony  till  we  all 
agree  to  do  so  !  " 

Katy  seemed  to  protest.     Her  lover  kissed  her  to  peace. 

In  deep  embarrassment  the  priest  performed  his  office ;  and  Al- 
bion howling  thereat,  Lloyd  fastened  around  his  neck  the  horseshoe 
on  the  tree. 

"  Katy,"  said  he,  coming  in,  "  the  doves  have  come  back  from 
the  South,  and  have  got  the  old  nest  in  the  tree." 


Dawn  had  not  come  on  the  dark  Catoctin  hills  that  had  gamboled 
the  night  away,  and  rested  now  in  outlines  of  slumber,  when  Luther 
Bosler,  going  to  the  barn,  was  met  by  Lloyd  Quantrell. 

"  Brother,"  said  Lloyd,  "  I  must  have  a  horse  to  take  me  to 
the  railroad.  My  character  is  at  stake  unless  I  reach  Baltimore  to- 
day." 

When  Lloyd  had  gone,  and  Luther  and  his  father  were  hauling 
wood  from  the  distant  mountains,  Hugh  Fenwick  came  down  the 
stairs  like  a  ghost. 

"  What  ails  you,  Father  Hugh  ?  "  sighed  Katy. 

"  Sister,  I  am  anathema.  Tempted  by  pride  and  praise,  I  claimed 
to  have  the  right  to  marry  people.  It  was  a  wicked  assumption,  for 
I  am  not  yet  in  holy  orders." 

The  dog  howled  at  the  threshold. 

Katy  fell  by  the  fireplace,  with  her  head  in  the  ashes. 

"  Ah-coo-roo !  coo-roo  ! "  spoke  the  doves  in  the  tree,  v^'hich 
had  quit  the  South  just  in  time. 


Quantrell  reached  Baltimore  in  season  to  be  taken  to  a  meeting 
called  for  the  purpose  of  resisting  the  passage  of  more  troops  through 


352 


JTATY  OF  CATOCTIiY. 


the  city ;  some  United  States  artillery  and  some  German  companies 
from  Pennsylvania  having  marched  through  that  afternoon,  despite 
threats,  insults,  and  ruffianism,  to  protect  the  national  capital.  The 
nature  of  that  meeting  was  black  and  insurrectionary,  and  Quantrell 
joined  his  military  friends  right  afterward ;  and  the  bottle  was  the 
presiding  genius  there  as  everywhere. 

He  could  not  find  his  father ;  but  Light  Pittson  was  in  the  house, 
and  Lloyd  told  her  he  was  committed  to  leave  for  Virginia  at  call. 
The  girl,  unacquainted  with  more  than  the  spirit  of  the  hour,  com- 
mended his  resolution. 

Next  day  Lloyd  arose  late,  and  heard  a  wild  din  in  the 
streets. 

"  The  Yankees !  The  myrmidons !  More  of  them  are  com- 
ing." 

He  drew  on  his  clothes,  and  fell  in  with  the  mongrel  swarm  of 
tatterdemalions  and  bravoes— the  unthinking,  the  pale,  and  the  fierce 
— and  they  swept  him  toward  the  harbor  of  the  city,  where  the  flood- 
tide  bore  the  bowsprits  of  ships  nearly  across  that  street  where  the 
one  track  of  a  railroad  alone  connected  the  capital  of  the  Union 
with  the  great  States  of  the  North,  just  risen  from  the  swoon  of  the 
news  of  disunion. 

The  rioters  were  marching  on  that  track  thousands  strong,  as  if 
Jones's  Falls  and  its  pollution  had  burst,  and  were  deluging  the 
quays. 

Quantrell  learned  that  a  portion  of  a  Northern  "  army  "  had 
just  been  hauled  through  the  town  in  cars  by  horses  ;  but  that  some 
fragments  had  remained  behind,  and  that  these  were  now  to  be 
murdered.  People  were  already  tearing  up  the  track  and  piling 
stones  and  ship-anchors  in  the  streets. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  moving  coherence  of  some  kind  was  seen  at 
a  place  in  the  broad  street,  where  a  bridge  crossed  the  great  open 
sewer  of  the  city.  It  seemed  like  a  stone  wall  moving  yet  crum- 
bling, and  at  the  head  of  it  waved  a  sort  of  color  or  flag,  torn  and 
gay  and  dirty.  The  air  was  mottled  with  things  that  seemed  to  be 
tossed  out  of  a  machine,  or  revolving  like  bats  or  butterflies  in  the 
wind.  ' 

As  the  moving  disaster  drew  nearer,  there  was  seen  enveloped 
a  little  band  of  men  staggering  under  arms,  beaten  and  bloody,  the 
air  and  the  street  spouting  stones  at  them,  and  at  their  head  a  mis- 
creant of  destruction  was  carrying,  to  insult  them,  the  new  piece  of 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  PROBATION.  353 

finery  conceived  in  the  Southern  barracoons — the  insurgent,  separat- 
ing, or  confederated  flag, 

Quantrell  picked  up  a  stone. 

He  saw  at  the  head  of  that  little,  tired  soldiery,  the  mayor  of  the 
city,  walking  by  their  officer,  pale  and  dusty,  but  doing  his  duty  at 
the  risk  of  his  life. 

The  troops  came  so  close  that  Lloyd  could  hear  them  panting. 
Their  tongues  were  dry,  like  those  of  sheep  driven  without  water. 
Here  and  there  one  would  be  tripped  up  by  some  coward  and  fall 
beneath  his  heavy  and  unwonted  accoutrements.  Yet  the  eyes  of 
all  were  shining  at  something  farther  on,  and  seeing  this  alone. 

"  What  was  it  they  saw  }  "  Quantrell  often  asked,  afterward,  but 
could  never  tell.  It  might  have  been  the  unprotected  capital  of  their 
country,  or  the  presence  of  death,  or  the  worship  of  a  faithful  pos- 
terity which  could  feel  for  their  agony  that  day. 

They  numbered  less  than  two  hundred ;  they  spoke  no  more 
than  the  ox  going  to  slaughter.  The  Christian  martyrs  in  the  Ro- 
man arena  were  not  beset  by  as  many  thousands  nor  by  more 
ravening  beasts.  Yet  all  that  these  men  were  doing  was  obeying  a 
proclamation  of  law  and  using  a  peaceable  post-road  of  the  coun- 
try to  go  to  their  capital. 

Quantrell  was  fascinated  with  the  scene  of  duty  and  of  dread. 
The  stone  he  was  holding  in  his  hand  was  wrested  from  him,  and 
the  villain  who  seized  it  hurled  it  against  an  old  man  limping  at  the 
soldiery's  side,  with  a  face  like  the  dust  of  battle  on  the  skins  of  the 
dead. 

"  That  is  my  father ! "  Quantrell  gasped,  and  rushed  where  the 
old  man  fell. 

"  Go  back,  sir !  This  is  my  place,"  a  woman  spoke,  rising,  with 
Abel  Quantrell  in  her  arms. 

Lloyd  gazed,  and  saw  the  face  of  Hannah  Ritner,  stained  with 
his  father's  blood. 

The  butchers  of  the  mob  had  now  presumed  too  far ;  it  had  be- 
come a  question  of  resistance  or  death.  Hemmed  in  and  blocked 
fast,  stoned  and  spit  upon,  prodded  with  staves  and  stuck  with  awls, 
deserted  by  police  and  outlawed  in  that  place  of  public  commerce, 
the  soldiery  from  near  the  ancient  battle-field  of  Lexington  waited 
for  one  word,  and  it  came,  at  last,  with  nasal  curtness  and  mean- 
ing : 

"  Ready  ! — Fire ! " 


254  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Then  rolled  through  Baltimore  the  echoes  of  Fort  Sumter,  and 
the  streets,  all  strewed  with  flying  scavengers,  ended  the  war  on  that 
spot  forever. 

The  flight  of  the  rioters  gave  the  police  room  to  form  in,  and  the 
volunteers  of  Massachusetts  were  molested  no  more,  save  by  that 
local  chatter  which  ever  follows  in  the  wake  of  the  brave. 


Lloyd's  father  was  dangerously  hurt,  but  the  son  demanded  per- 
mission to  see  him  that  night. 

"  Father,"  said  he,  "  I  am  going— you  must  know  where.  I  lit- 
tle thought  the  first  bloodshed  would  be  upon  your  aged  face. 
Wide  as  we  differ,  father,  there  ought  to  be  love  between  us.  Can 
you  not  forget  the  cause  I  go  to  fight  for,  and  bless  your  son  }  " 

"  You  will  never  see  me  again  ! "  Abel  Quantrell  spoke,  his  face 
with  hnes  of  blood  upon  it,  but  the  mouth  firm  as  the  dead  Cid's 
brought  from  his  tomb  to  fight  the  Moors.  "  I  can  not  bless  by 
my  finite  power.  My  heart  has  been  warmed  of  late  toward  you, 
and  if  you  could  stay  here,  where  Heaven  should  make  you  see  your 
duty,  affection  might  grow  strong  between  us.  How  can  I  say  '  God 
bless  you,'  sir,  when,  blessing  you,  I  dare  not  ask  liberty  for  your 
slaves,  against  whose  sorrows  you  go  to  war  ?  " 

"  I  have  anticipated  that,  father,"  Lloyd  replied.  "  You  can  bless 
me,  sir.  Here  is  a  bill  of  sale  of  every  slave  I  own,  prepared  to 
meet  this  hour  and  your  consistency.  Take  it  and  set  them  free, 
and  say,  '  God  bless  you,  Lloyd  ! '  " 

He  laid  the  paper  upon  the  bed. 

Abel  Quantrell  drew  his  son  to  his  face  and  kissed  him  with 
emotion. 

"  The  blessing  of  j-our  State  go  with  you,  when  Maryland  is  free : 
my  son,  take  my  farewell  from  her  shield,  '  Crescitc  et  multipHca- 
mini' "  * 

Light  Pittson  kissed  him  all  her  approbation. 

Hannah  Ritner  whispered  in  his  ear : 

"  When  thou  killest  everything. 
Still  the  turtle-dove  will  sing." 

•'  Grow  and  multiply,"  the  motto  of  Maryland. 


THE  OLD   SLAVE   COUNTIES.  355 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

THE  OLD   SLAVE   COUNTIES. 

QUANTRELL  left  Baltimore,  with  other  recruits,  for  the  seceding 
or  insurgent  government — the  two  lads  Arnold  and  O'Laughlin,  al- 
ready referred  to  as  Booth's  dependents,  and  the  liquor-dealer  Mar- 
tin, who  had  business  in  the  peninsulas  below  the  city  of  Washing- 
ton, where,  also,  were  situated  Ouantrell's  lands  and  slaves. 

These  peninsulas  stretch  eighty  miles  south  of  Baltimore  city, 
and  are  comprised  between  two  broad  sheets  of  tidal  water — the 
Chesapeake  Bay  coming  up  to  Baltimore,  and  the  great  river  Poto- 
mac, ceasing  its  tides  at  the  city  of  Washington.  The  general 
peninsula  is  divided  lengthwise  by  the  river  Patuxent,  flowing  half- 
way between  the  two  large  cities,  and  further  compressing  the  land 
for  traversable  purposes  to  the  breadth  of  only  twenty  miles  east 
from  Washington.  It  was  forty  miles  by  the  railroad  from  Balti- 
more to  Washington,  and  Quantrell  then  had  forty  miles  to  go  by 
private  conveyance  before  he  should  be  able  to  cross  into  Virginia 
at  Pope's  Creek,  near  the  old  court-house  town  of  Port  Tobacco. 

This  Pope's  Creek  suggested  to  our  traveler  that  the  parent 
country  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  in  the  English  colonies  was 
in  this  old  isolated  district  of  Maryland. 

While  Raleigh  was  seeking  to  plant  Virginia,  a  young  Tory  poli- 
tician at  court  cut  out  from  Raleigh's  colony  the  province  of  Mary- 
land, and  introduced  the  old  religion  there  in  its  decaying  and  perse- 
cuted times,  after  the  Catholic  conspiracy  of  Guy  Fawkes.  After  a 
course  of  fifty  years  a  Protestant  revolution  arose  in  Maryland,  and 
for  nearly  a  century  the  Romish  worship  was  suppressed,  or  till  the 
American  War  of  Independence  released  all  worships.  In  that  in- 
terval the  old  faith  of  Queen  Mary  smoldered  and  the  Lords  Balti- 
more had  professed  Protestantism ;  but  John  Carroll,  a  priest  of 
Rome  and  educated  on  the  Continent,  gathered  his  folds  together,  and 
brought  over  refugee  priests  from  the  French  Revolution  ;  and  thus, 
in  eighty  years,  Maryland  had  again  become  the  proselytizing  prov- 
ince of  American  Romanism,  with  its  springs  in  Baltimore  and  its 
antiquities  in  the  old  Potomac  peninsula. 

Upon  the  edge,  indeed,  within  the  rim,  of  this  old  English  Ca- 
tholicism stood  the  American  capital,  and  much  of  its  population 


35^ 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


was  of  the  faith  of  Calvert  and  Catesby,  while  a  Jesuit  college  and 
the  oldest  convent  in  the  land  overhung  the  city  from  the  steeps  of 
Georgetown.  Hardly  fifty  thousand  people  remained  in  Washing- 
ton, but  soldiers  were  quartered  in  the  halls  of  Congress,  and  all  the 
railroads  to  the  north  had  been  destroyed  the  night  following  the 
riots  in  Baltimore. 

The  city  of  Washington  stood,  the  melancholy  monument  of 
slavery  incorporated  with  a  democratic  system,  and  extending 
through  that  white  democracy,  to  the  lowest  man,  the  prejudices 
not  of  the  democracy,  but  of  the  slavery.  It  had  resisted  all  the 
efforts  of  Congress  to  make  it  a  free  district,  yet  slavery  had  spoiled 
its  proportions,  and,  originally  a  square,  it  was  now  only  the  Mary- 
land side  of  the  square,  and  gave  some  force  to  Abel  Quantrell's  re- 
mark, every  time  he  saw  the  map  of  the  District  of  Columbia : 

"  Cube  it !  " 

There  stood  a  long  Grecian  Capitol  on  a  nearly  naked  hill,  with 
the  splintered  drum  of  an  iron  dome,  Hke  a  broken  bundle  oi  fasces, 
unfinished  in  the  middle.  A  broad,  unsightly  avenue  stretched  from 
its  base,  between  stunted  rows  of  generally  mean-looking  houses,  to 
a  Treasury  Department  in  borrowed  architecture,  and  some  other 
ministerial  buildings,  surrounding  the  sorrowful  new  President's 
abode,  out  of  whose  official  window  he  could  look  upon  a  neglected 
obelisk  of  Washington,  halting  like  the  pillar  of  Lot's  wife  till  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  should  burn  in  chastising  fire. 

The  same  glance  which  showed  Abraham  Lmcoln  the  deciviliz- 
ing  impotence  of  slavery  showed  him  the  new  rebel  flag  hoisted  on 
the  Virginia  hills — that  Virginia  whence  his  forefathers  emigrated  to 
the  West.  Lloyd  had  the  privilege  of  seeing  this  man  for  the  only 
time  in  his  life,  when  the  President  walked,  the  day  of  Lloyd's  ar- 
rival, from  his  white  official  mansion  to  the  war  building. 

Lloyd  and  his  three  companions  encountered  a  tall  man,  a  small 
one,  and  one  neither  small  nor  tall,  but  wearing  spectacles. 

"  I'll  swaw,"  whispered  Martin,  "  if  yer  ain't  the  devil  himself !  " 

The  other  lads  looked  up  and  gave  room. 

The  tall  man  glanced  down  from  a  long  and  peculiar  face,  and 
said,  with  a  look  of  most  fatherly  tenderness,  where  sorrow  and 
sweetness  seemed  mixed  in  the  cup  of  dignity : 

"  Good-morning,  friends  !  " 

The  two  others  would  not  have  spoken  at  all  but  for  the  tall 
man's  condescension,  and  he  with  the  spectacles  barely  noticed  our 


THE   OLD   SLAVE   COUNTIES. 


357 


loiterers ;  while  the  little  man,  with  hardly  any  color  about  him, 
smiled  at  them  out  of  a  boyish,  old  face. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  asked  Lloyd,  seeing  only  one  face  of  the  three, 
and  that  had  seemed  to  shine  down  into  him  and  through  him,  Hke 
the  light  of  foliage  tremulous  in  water-wells. 

"  The  little  fellow  is  See-ward,  their  Secretary  of  State.  He  un 
in  specticles  is  the  great  lawyer  in  Washington — Stanton." 

"  But  the  other  man,  with  that  noble  voice  :  who  was  it .''  Where 
have  I  seen  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  on  every  picture  and  newspaper  for  the  last  year,  Lloyd. 
That's  the  Yankee  President,  Abe  Lincoln." 

Quantrell  drew  his  breath  in  a  woe  he  might  have  borrowed  from 
that  magistrate's  gentle  forlornness. 

"Oh,  boys,"  said  he,  "I  hoped  he  was  an  uglier  and  a  more 
wicked  or  degraded  man.  That  is  a  gentleman,  and  the  truth  has 
not  been  told  us." 

A  hired  carriage  took  our  adventurers  to  heights  of  clay  and  for- 
est overlooking  a  broad  arm  of  the  Potomac,  called  the  Eastern 
Branch,  where  were  a  navy-yard  and  a  bridge,  guarded  by  hastily 
improvised  militia.  As  they  looked  down  from  these  hills  at  the 
squalid  city  of  the  government,  basking  in  blue  haze  and  in  the  cleft 
of  broad,  deserted  rivers,  Martin,  the  liquor-dealer,  said  : 

"  Boys,  we  might  have  give  old  Abe  Lincoln  and  that  abolition- 
ist See-ward  a  couple  of  shots,  and  got  out  of  town  easy." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that,"  Mike  O'Laughhn  added.  "  If  Johnny 
Booth  had  seen  him,  I  b'leeve  he  would  have  clipped  him.  Booth's 
bitter  as  death." 

"  I  never  could  have  fired  on  that  face,"  Lloyd  Quantrell  spoke. 
"  I  told  father  I  would  do  nothing  between  the  lines." 

"  Harkee  !  "  Martin  interposed  ;  "  I  want  you  all  to  j'ine  me,  boys, 
and  we'll  cut  out  this  steamboat  that  runs  from  Balt'mer  to  P'int 
Lookout.  I'm  down  yer  now  to  spot  her.  We'll  hide  a  crew  aboard 
of  her,  and  drive  her  own  crew  overboard  and  take  her  as  a  present 
to  Jefferson  Davis." 

The  other  two  watched  Quantrell,  to  form  their  opinions  from 
his. 

"  Martin,"  said  Lloyd,  "  I'll  do  no  such  Indian  ambushing.  If 
our  cause  is  right,  it  wants  to  be  supported  by  soldiers,  and  not  by 
robbers  and  assassins.     I  shall  enlist  in  the  Virginia  line." 

As  subsequent  events  proved,  Mr.  Martin  did  lurk  within  the 


358  K^ATY  OF  CATOCTJN. 

government  lines,  and  he  and  others  seized  this  steamer ;  but  the 
military  punished  the  chief  offenders,  and  Mr.  Martin  ran  away  to 
Canada,  where  he  lived  a  scheming  life  during  the  remainder  of 
his  days.  And  yet  this  man  had  a  certain  influence  upon  the  great- 
est personal  crime  of  that  long  civil  war. 

They  had  loitered  away  the  whole  Saturday  morning  in  Wash- 
ington, and  the  long,  steep  hills  of  clay,  still  in  the  pools  and  ruts  of 
winter,  delayed  the  carriage,  so  that  it  was  near  supper-time  when 
they  reached  Surratt's  tavern,  ten  miles  from  the  capital. 

It  was  a  respectable,  white  wooden  house,  with  green  shutters 
and  two  chimneys,  and  a  paling  was  around  its  pretty  flower-yard 
and  vine-clad  porch  on  the  broad-eaved  side,  while  a  shed  along  the 
northern  gable  shaded  a  bar-room  and  post-office ;  and  here  were 
assembled  some  negro  overseers,  woods  farmers,  and  young  men, 
with  their  horses  tied  around  the  fences  and  in  a  grassy  space. 

A  locust-tree  grew  in  this  open  area,  a  small  peach-orchard  was 
behind  the  house,  and  some  bird-cages  adorned  the  road-side.  Near 
and  far  the  melancholy  woods  of  oak  and  chinquapin  and  small  wild 
pine  enveloped  the  clearings,  and  the  brown  fox-grass  blew  with  a 
whistling  sound,  and  the  tender  green  of  spring  made  cover  and 
fringes  in  the  forests. 

They  saw  within  Surratt,  the  tavern-keeper,  and  the  lad  of  the 
same  name  who  had  been  at  St.  Charles  College  with  Hugh  Fen- 
wick,  distinguished  by  his  long  nose,  lean  chin,  and  sunken  eyes. 
The  elder  Surratt  was  ill,  and  not  long  to  live ;  the  son  grave  and 
uninteresting ;  and  therefore  Quantrell  was  rejoiced  to  find  the  ladies 
of  the  family  in  the  dwelling  part — Mrs.  Surratt,  a  wife  of  round 
form  and  soft  complexion,  and  of  hospitable  ways,  and  her  young 
daughter,  pretty  and  chirrupy. 

Quantrell  had  brought  Katy's  accordion  along,  and  he  played 
and  sang  to  the  females  in  the  snug  rooms  and  wide  hall-way,  while 
Arnold  and  0'Lau2;hlin,  habitually  impecunious,  spent  Ouantrell's 
money  at  the  bar,  and  retired  to  bed  tipsy. 

Young  Herold,  whom  they  had  met  in  Charlestovvn,  came  in  and 
sat  with  the  family.  He  had  some  married  sisters  in  the  peninsula, 
and  was  full  of  talk  about  "  patridges."  His  little  bashful  face  was 
a  mirror  of  dimples  and  blushes,  and  no  subject  found  him  talkative 
but  that  of  gunning ;  on  snipe  and  wild  ducks,  and  especially  on 
"  patridges,"  he  was  eloquent. 

Lloyd  had  the  reputation  of  wealth  in  this   region ;   and  the 


THE   OLD   SLAVE   COUNTIES.  359 

young-looking  mother  and  pleasing  daughter  paid  him  attention — 
the  more,  that  he  was  about  to  volunteer  in  the  armies  of  secession. 

He  thought  of  his  child-wife  passing  her  honeymoon  in  those 
walled  mountains,  of  the  brief  bliss  of  their  union  and  violent  sun- 
dering, and  he  was  in  no  mood  to  indulge  in  political  acerbities. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Surratt,"  he  said,  when  his  ears  had  been  too  long 
harassed  by  epithets  of  "  Yankee,"  "  despot,"  "  nigger- worshiper," 
"  black  republican,"  "  vile  abolitionist,"  and  so  on,  "  don't  let  the 
women,  also,  go  to  the  war !  Some  day  we  shall  cease  fighting,  I 
hope,  and  home  will  be  so  grateful  without  politics.  Then  the  ladies 
can  make  peace  speedy  and  easy  with  their  soft  ministrations,  in- 
stead of  blowing  the  coals  of  war  to  flame  again." 

"  Never  will  I  live  under  Abe  Lincoln,  that  vile  and  nasty  aboli- 
tion President !  "  said  the  hostess,  with  all  her  dainty  temper. 

They  kissed  the  young  man  good-night,  with  mingled  confidence 
and  coquetry ;  and  their  boy.  who  would  be  a  priest,  lighted  the  way 
for  him. 

"  It  must  make  you  feel  proud,  sir,  to  go  to  war  for  your  coun- 
try !  "  young  Surratt  exclaimed,  with  timid  admiration. 

"  My  country,"  repeated  Lloyd,  "  where  is  it  ?  Go  back  to  school, 
my  friend,  and  stay  there,  and  don't  loiter  here  between  the  lines." 

It  v^^as  long  before  Quantrell  could  fall  asleep,  thinking  of  the 
unnatural  compulsions  which  now  were  driving  himself  and  millions 
more  away  from  love,  home,  and  law — the  despotisms  of  pride,  per- 
versity, and  moral  cowardice. 

He  would  not  be  ruled  because  he  had  said  he  would  not,  and  he 
had  said  so  because  others  did  the  same ;  yet  not  one  grievance 
had  he  received  except  the  expression  of  the  lawful  majority  against 
the  weedy  and  gypsy  instincts  of  slavery,  to  go  everywhere  and  spoil 
good  land,  and  sow  arrogance,  brutality,  and  dissension. 

That  gentle,  fatherly  face  he  had  seen  in  Washington,  so  differ- 
ent from  the  hard-  and  cold-faced  President  just  retired,  had  spoken 
to  him  and  his  fellow-truants  the  word  "  friends,"  with  a  sensibility 
inherent,  and  a  smile  that  was  the  God's  upon  the  cross. 

"  Could  he,"  thought  Quantrell,  "  rise  in  to-morrow's  sun  with 
that  same  countenance  and  be  beheld  by  all  who  are  breaking  up 
the  country,  and  say  'friends,'  as  he  did  to  us,  would  they  not 
submit  to  his  rule  .>  Alas,  no  !  for  I  can  not  myself  hear  the  cry  of 
my  father  nor  of  my  wife.  A  haughty  and  cowardly  fear  to  turn 
back  and  be  right,  drives  me  and  all  of  us  to  a  silly  insurrection." 


360 


A^ATV  OF  CATOCTJN 


A  feeling  of  indignation  possessed  him  against  the  original  se- 
cessionists ;  but  he  could  not  think  of  the  name  of  a  single  one.  All 
secessionists  had  been  secondary  ones.  If  there  was  one  original 
secessionist,  it  was  not  an  individual,  but  a  system  ;  and  John  Brown 
had  tried  to  kill  it  with  his  pikes.  Slavery  was  the  only  original 
secessionist. 

The  nearest  Lloyd  could  come  to  an  evil  influence  over  himself 
was  Booth.  Here  seemed  a  man  of  insurrectionary  incentive — head- 
long as  the  thunderbolt,  yet  the  child  of  the  cloud — gathering  young 
men  together  to  make  them  drink  and  swear ;  governing  them  by 
his  dark-eyed  will,  and  lending  them  his  affections  to  incite  their  re- 
venges. 

That  oath  by  Harper's  Ferry,  illegal  and  unbinding  as  secession 
ordinances  themselves,  still  lay  in  Quantrell's  mind  Hke  a  coiled  and 
hissing  snake  !  "  If  trouble  ever  comes,  to  revenge  the  South  ;  if  in- 
vasion comes,  to  invade  her  invaders — '  Sic  semper  tyrannis!  '  " 

Lloyd  wished  he  had  never  seen  John  Wilkes  Booth. 

Ah  !  if  some  woman  had  only  entered  where  they  took  that 
oath  and  dashed  their  glasses  down — some  gentle  woman,  like  her 
who  had  kissed  Ouantrell  to  bed  ! 

But  she,  too,  was  full  of  political  bitterness,  and  could  not  stay 
her  tongue  from  wagging  when  the  deep-mouthed  guns  were  full  of 
shot,  and  Law  and  Treason  stood  on  the  instant  of  war. 

Quantrell  fell  asleep,  with  the  spirit  of  his  child-bride  in  his  anns  ; 
but  he  dreamed  a  horrid  dream. 

It  was  the  dream  identical  with  Atzerodt's  in  the  night  when 
Lloyd  first  knew  Katy  Bosler,  and  when  love  came  between  them 
on  the  tremor  of  superstition. 

There  was  a  man  of  pale  and  black  complexion,  like  Booth,  rid- 
ing a  horse  in  a  wood,  and  Quantrell  had  overtaken  him  there, 
and  drunk  with  him  ;  and  out  of  the  bottle  seemed  to  come  other 
men  every  time  they  drank ;  and  "  the  last  man,"  as  Atzerodt  had 
expressed  it,  "  was  a  woman."  That  woman  was  the  exact  copy  of 
her  by  whom  Quantrell  had  been  kissed,  motherly,  to  his  bed  ! 

The  man  they  encountered,  as  they  rode  along  under  that  dark 
and  white  influence,  was  the  tall  President  who  had  called  his  ene- 
mies "  friends  "  but  yesterday,  and  the  same  deep,  feeling  tones 
came  from  his  face  in  the  dream  :  "  Good-evening,  friends ;  we're 
'most  home."     "  The  devil  you  are  !"  answered  the  voice  of  Booth. 

So  the  vision  proceeded,  till  the  black-and-white  rider  fomented 


THE   OLD   SLAVE   COUNTIES.  36 1 

hate  against  the  tall,  unsuspecting  gentleman,  and  called  for  a  show 
of  hands ;  and  when  the  men  were  at  a  tie,  the  woman  in  this  same 
tavern  gave  the  casting  vote,  by  calling  "  Charge  !  " — and  over  the 
precipice  went  she  and  all  of  them,  trampling  the  "  long  man  in 
black  clothes  "  to  the  earth  in  his  blood, 

Quantrell  awoke,  all  throbbing  with  excitement.  He  looked  out 
in  the  night  on  woods  and  pallid  moon,  and  heard  the  whip-poor- 
will  cry  down  the  cross-roads  from  Surrattsville. 

Back  to  bed  he  went,  and  dreamed  the  same  dream,  with  varia- 
tions, over  and  over,  till  he  fell  into  a  better  sleep  at  dawn,  and, 
when  he  came  down  to  eat,  the  ladies  were  starting  for  the  Catholic 
church  at  Piscataway.     Quantrell  bade  them  good-by,  saying : 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Surratt,  I  had  a  bad  dream  last  night.  You  had 
become  a  politician,  and  felt  an  evil  influence.  Pray  against  it,  to- 
day and  ever :  '  Ab  insidiis  diaboli,  libera  nos,  Jesu /'"*■ 

That  first  Sabbath  of  the  war  in  April  time  carried  Quantrell 
and  his  trio,  Martin  driving,  through  the  woods  just  tingling  with 
the  rising  sap,  to  a  little  stage  station  called  Tee  Bee,  and  through 
the  deep-washing  creeks  and  their  aguish  swamps  of  Piscataway 
and  Mattawoman,  till  at  the  ruined  hamlet  of  Beantown  they 
turned  to  the  east  and  saw  the  congregation  dismissing  at  a  road- 
side Catholic  church,  whose  graveyard  adjacent  was  filled  with 
little  tombstones  invoking  "Jesus,  Mary,  and  Joseph."  Here  Mar- 
tin went  on  with  some  communicants  bound  for  St.  Mary's  County, 
and  the  other  two  walked  to  Bryantown,  five  miles  to  the  south, 
while  Quantrell  went  to  dine  with  a  country  physician,  Samuel 
Mudd,  who  had  a  farm  and  numerous  slaves.  In  this  vicinity  was 
Lloyd  Quantrell's  property,  and  the  country  toward  Bryantown  was 
the  best  improved  of  all  in  this  old  tobacco  region. 

Dr.  Sam  Mudd  lived  far  back  from  the  road  on  a  wheaty  plateau, 
and,  as  he  preceded  Quantrell  from  church  on  his  horse,  he  wore  a 
troubled  look,  asking  about  the  fight  in  Baltimore,  rejoicing  at  the 
attack  upon  the  soldiery,  and  wondering  whether  his  slaves  would 
run  away. 

An  enterprising  father  had  both  educated  him  and  left  him  slave 
property.  In  this  old  region  had  once  existed  a  high  degree  of  pro- 
fessional cultivation,  and  two  of  the  physicians  hereabout  had  been 
cited  to  the  death-bed  of  General  Washington,  who  lived  hardly  ten 

*  From  the  Roman  litany :  "  From  the  snares  of  the  devil,  Jesus  deliver 
us!" 

16 


362  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

miles  from  Mrs.  Surratt's  tavern,  but  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Potomac,  These  old  Scotch-graduated  surgeons  had  kept  medical 
students  in  their  houses,  and  in  a  land  of  slaves  and  few  proprietors 
the  doctor  continued  to  be  more  necessary  than  the  lawyer.  So 
Dr.  Mudd  had  a  proprietary  and  a  practitionary  interest  in  slavery. 

He  was  a  lean  man,  of  a  rather  hungry  and  nervous  tempera- 
ment, with  hght-red  hair,  and  his  complexion  easily  betrayed  his 
feelings,  which  were  quick  to  brood  and  seldom  buoyant  long.  He 
was  married  and  agreeably  surrounded.  His  white  dwelling,  with 
long  blank  roof,  stood  high  above  the  surrounding  wide  swamps, 
and  from  its  summits  the  Patuxent  might  almost  be  seen,  where  he 
shipped  his  wheat,  corn,  and  tobacco.  A  peach-orchard  showed  its 
warm  tints  in  the  front,  high  trees  flanked  the  gable,  and  servants' 
quarters  were  near  by,  with  the  convenient  cool  spring  that  Mary- 
landers  covet,  and  a  house-yard  and  garden,  making  home  neat  and 
independent. 

He  led  Quantrell  into  a  hall  and  office-parlor  taking  up  the  front 
of  the  dwelling,  and  there  they  talked  about  property  matters  over 
a  social  glass. 

"  People  are  going  crazy,"  said  Dr.  Mudd  ;  "  we  had  to  send  off 
one  of  our  leading  citizens  to  a  lunatic  asylum  a  month  ago.  He 
had  manumitted  all  his  niggers,  and  wanted  to  rob  his  family.  I 
gave  the  certificate  to  send  him  to  the  asylum." 

"  On  that  act  only,  Sam  }  " 

"  That  was  the  main  thing ;  yes." 

"  Then  I  am  a  lunatic,  Sam  ;  for  I  have  set  all  mine  free." 

"  You  ?  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"As  far  as  it  can  be  done,  with  the  embarrassments  of  our  laws 
against  manumitting,  I  have  done  it.  My  father  is  against  slavery, 
and  I  sold  my  negroes  to  him,  giving  a  blank  receipt,  and  they  are 
as  good  as  free.     I  shall  tell  them  so  to-day." 

Dr.  Mudd  lost  his  temper,  and  looked  at  Lloyd  with  incredulity 
and  suspicion. 

"  What  in  God's  name  are  you  going  into  the  Confederate  army 
for,  then  ?  " 

"  Freedom,"  answered  Quantrell. 

"  Freedom  ?  You're  talking  like  an  Abe  Lincoln  abolitionist ! 
Don't  you  know  that  slavery  is  the  only  cause  for  separation  ?  " 

"  Why,  Sam,  your  blacks  will  all  run  away.  They  are  only  a 
night's  walk  from  Washington  city,  and  every  one  of  them  knows 


THE   OLD   SLAVE   COUNTIES.  303 

that  secession  was  on  account  of  slavery.  So  I  shall  help  the  South 
to  resist  invasion ;  but  nobody  shall  tell  me  that  I  have  quit  my 
father,  my  country,  and  my  girl,  for  no  nobler  end  than  to  keep  my 
negroes  as  slaves." 

Quantrell's  face  shone  with  something  higher  than  pride — the 
dawning  principle  which  comes  after  disinterested  sacrifice.  Dr. 
Mudd  leaped  up  and  flashed  his  spiteful  blue  eyes  on  his  guest. 

"  Damn  you  !  "  he  said,  "  they  won't  have  you  in  the  Confederate 
army.  No  man  is  wanted  there  who  is  not  a  thick-and-thin  pro- 
slavery  man.  Do  you  think  I  would  leave  the  Union  to  fight  for  a 
part  of  it,  if  I  had  to  give  my  niggers  away .''  No,  sir  !  I  shall  send 
them  to  Virginia  and  sell  them  to  go  South,  if  I  can't  hold  them 
safe  here." 

"  Don't  get  mad,  Sam.  You  can't  get  me  mad,  because  the 
rotten  old  interest  is  off  my  mind,  and  I  feel,  in  that  quarter,  a 
relief  that  makes  death  in  battle  only  half  terrible.  Perhaps  the 
Federal  Government  will  offer  to  pay  for  all  the  slaves  in  Mary- 
land." 

"  I  wouldn't  accept  it,  sir  !  "  shrieked  Dr.  Mudd.  "  I've  got  my 
constitutional  rights,  and  I  won't  be  bought  up." 

"  Sam,  you'll  drive  the  Government  to  emancipation  if  you  don't 
give  them  some  kind  of  chance." 

Dr.  Mudd  broke  into  curses  furious  and  irrational ;  the  negroes, 
slipping  by,  heard  the  welcome  sounds  which  proved  their  freedom 
to  be  the  white  man's  apprehension. 

"  Doctor,"  Lloyd  spoke,  at  last,  "  are  you  quite  sure  the  other 
man  should  not  have  given  you  the  certificate  for  the  asylum  ?  Be 
respectable,  at  least.  Holy  Easter  was  but  three  weeks  ago,  when 
Christ  arose ;  you  have  just  come  from  church,  and  I  am  your 
guest :  here  are  three  reasons  not  to  swear." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  go  ! "  snapped  Dr.  Mudd  ;  *'  I  never  enter- 
tain abolitionists." 

"  Good-by,  then,"  said  Lloyd,  rising.  "Take  care  you  don't 
entertain,  some  time,  a  man  less  candid  than  I  am,  and  with  hands 
less  clean  !  The  devil  is  abroad,  watching  for  people  in  a  passion 
in  such  times  as  these.  He  was  in  my  dreams  last  night  at  Mrs. 
Surratt's.  He  may  come  into  this  room  if  a  humble  spirit  does  not 
guard  it  for  you." 

The  wretched  man,  cut  in  his  sense  of  hospitable  duty,  lay  all 
that  day  in  self-accusation,  while  Lloyd  Quantrell  went  to  his  own 


364  JiTATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 

negro  estate  not  far  away,  and  dined  with  the  slaves  he  meant  to 
rejoice. 

They  were  always  glad  to  see  him  come,  and  they  were  all  there  ; 
and  responsibly  above  them  was  Ashby,  the  hostage  of  John  Brown's 
invasion.  When  Lloyd  had  eaten  of  the  toothsome  negro  fare  he 
loved  so  well  from  childhood's  time,  he  called  them  close  around 
him,  the  aged  and  the  babes,  the  supple  girls  who  had  loved  him, 
and  the  hardy  young  laborers  he  had  romped  and  wrestled  with. 

"  My  dear  old  friends,"  spoke  Lloyd,  "  some  of  whom  knew  my 
dear  mother,  and  combed  her  long,  bright  hair — " 

The  healing  springs  of  Charlotte  Hall,  near  by,  flowed  not 
quicker  than  their  tears,  to  see  Lloyd  catch  his  rising  sob,  and  stop 
and  tremble.  The  little  mulatto  children  came  to  his  knees,  the 
dusky  grandmothers  groaned  and  rocked  their  heads  ;  if  Lloyd  had 
never  been  loved  before,  there  were  gentle-hearted  women  there, 
and  pure  as  slavery  could  permit,  to  nurse  his  suffering  now  upon 
their  bosoms,  and  wipe  his  eyes  with  their  hairs. 

He  felt  himself  as  on  that  day  when  he  wept  in  Katy's  rapt 
embrace  going  to  the  love-feast,  and  she  fought  with  the  angels  for 
his  soul ! 

The  angels  had  yielded  then,  and  now  the  archangel,  with  the 
trump  of  jubilee,  was  to  let  poor  Quantrell  wind  an  unpremeditated 
strain  : 

*'  Oh  ! "  he  cried,  putting  down  his  emotions  with  a  noble  con- 
fession, "I  wish  I  was  the  owner  of  every  slave,  instead  of  only  this 
family,  that  I  might  set  all  free  as  I  do  you,  this  Sabbath  after  Holy 
Week  !  I  wish  I  was  the  President,  not  of  the  United  States,  for 
he  has  not  the  opportunity,  but  the  President  of  the  Confederate 
States,  to  call  Freedom  loud,  and  ask  God's  blessing  and  alliance  ! " 

"  Amen  !  "  rolled  round  the  circle.  The  aged  women,  with  not 
long  to  live,  shouted  for  their  few  days  of  freedom  like  the  trembling 
virgins  and  the  honest  wives.  All  faces  glowed  as  if  the  stone  had 
been  rolled  a  little  way  from  the  tomb,  and  the  bright  supernal  light 
shone  forth  of  the  everlasting  Redeemer. 

"  Hallelujah  !  Bless  God,  he's  come  !  God  bless  young  moss- 
ter  everywhere  ! " 

"  I  feel  so  good,"  cried  Lloyd,  "  I  could  shout !  for  to-day  I 
make  you  free.  Father  has  the  papers  ;  I  gave  them  to  him.  He 
can  not  disappoint  you.  The  sacrifice  has  not  cost  me  a  pang,  and 
my  heart  is  full  of  more  than  happiness — of  glory ! " 


REBELLION-  365 

"  Glory !  glory ! " 

The  slave  people  sprang  to  their  feet ;  the  old  forgot  their  rheu- 
matisms; Methodist  and  Catholic  negro  danced  together;  Lloyd 
danced  and  leaped  like  a  negro  of  the  tribe.  No  church  in  Mary- 
land felt  the  frenzy  of  excitement  at  revival-time  like  these  who  had 
seen  their  rights,  so  long  denied,  come  in  upon  the  generous  breath 
of  kindness,  ungrudging  as  the  blossoms  of  the  spring. 

When  weary  nature  ceased  to  shout,  and  all  lay  panting  around 
the  porches  and  on  the  earth,  some  lute-stringed  throats  of  women 
started  melodious  tunes,  and  at  the  end  the  patriarch  of  the  family 
prayed. 

Lloyd's  time  was  out.  He  kissed  them  all — the  children  ten- 
derly, the  fair  ones  with  pure  and  brotherly  lips ;  the  men,  too,  in 
tlie  Dunker  fashion,  not  a  bit  afraid  or  dainty. 

"  Mosster,"  spoke  Ashby,  "  these  yer — all  but  me — has  got 
friends  in  Merrj'lin.  I  ain't  got  none  but  you.  Take  me,  and 
let  me  be  your  sen-ant." 

"  Not  into  the  slave  States,  where  you  have  no  rights  !  Not  into 
battle,  Ashby ! " 

"  Mosster,  I  got  only  one  right  left — de  rest  is  dead ;  dat  is  de 
right  to  love  and  die  with  you  ! " 

"  Come,  then,"  spoke  Quantrell ;  "  it  is  si.xteen  miles  farther  to 
Pope's  Creek." 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

REBELLION. 

Ashby  was  not  the  only  Union  volunteer  for  Lloyd  that  day ; 
the  great  dog  Fritz,  long  left  at  his  estate,  and  now  old  but  valiant, 
followed  the  two  exiles. 

They  skirted  the  rapid  running  waters  of  Zekiah  Swamp,  and 
crossing  a  branch,  entered  Bryantown,  three  or  four  miles  from 
Mudd's,  a  small  cross-roads  village  of  later  date  than  most  of  the 
peninsular  hamlets,  with  several  respectable  houses  and  more  wooden 
cabins,  some  mechanics'  shops,  and  a  double-porched  tavern,  with 
dark  bar  below ;  from  its  upper  veranda  could  be  seen,  on  the  hills 
toward  the  south,  a  prominent  Catholic  church. 


366 


A'ATV  OF   CATOCTIN. 


When  they  reached  the  church,  Ashby  driving,  they  saw  a  sin- 
gular scene  on  the  cedar-  and  fir-crowned  lawn  before  the  airy 
church-yard. 

A  large  buzzard,  or  vulture,  was  settling  down  in  the  road,  his 
sable  wings  scurr>'ing  the  dust  where  lay  a  fine  riding  horse — such 
as  is  native  to  that  country — fallen  dead.  The  stolid  black  scaven- 
ger, undeterred  by  Lloyd's  advancing,  had  already  run  its  beak  into 
the  charger,  when  Fritz,  the  dog,  darted  upon  it. 

Too  gluttonous  or  too  sluggish  to  know  alarm,  the  carrion-bird 
held  its  ground,  and  stared  with  dull  and  drunken  eyes  upon  the 
dog,  as  ii  expressing  a  willingness  to  divide  the  prey.  At  this  the 
dog  drew  back,  glared  at  the  horrible  bird,  and  ran  from  it  in  avoid- 
ance worse  than  fear. 

Six  miles  toward  the  south,  then  westward  through  Zekiah 
Swamp  and  six  miles  westward  more,  brought  Lloyd  at  nightfall  to 
old  Port  Tobacco  Town,  in  the  miasmas  of  a  deep  inlet  from  the 
Potomac.  It  contained  a  venerable  Episcopal  church,  a  court-house 
which  once  taxed  bachelors  to  support  that  church,  some  law-offices, 
and  two  taverns ;  and  around  it,  on  the  hills,  showed  mansions  of  a 
once  opulent  time.  Lying  in  a  bowl  of  the  hills,  neglect,  night- 
poison,  and  slavery  had  come  Hke  three  witches  to  grin  upon  it. 

"  Don't  sleep  heah,  mosster,"  the  negro  said  ;  "  it's  death  to  stran- 
gers after  sundown  ! " 

Quantrell  gazed  around  on  jail  and  crumbling  wall,  on  public 
pump  and  butcher-stall,  on  gr^ivestones  uninclosed,  and  hollow  ruin. 

"  Think  of  it,"  he  reflected  ;  "  thirty-four  miles  from  the  city  of 
Washington  ! — only  an  evening's  drive  !  " 

The  time  came  when  this  reflection  put  into  another  head  an  en- 
terprise of  desperation.  Port  Tobacco  was  on  the  direct  line,  as  the 
crow  flies,  from  the  city  of  Baltimore  to  the  city  of  Richmond,  and 
as  directly  south  from  Washington  as  the  plummet  could  hang. 
Did  the  government  at  Washington  forget  this  when,  the  very  day 
Lloyd  Quantrell  arrived  in  Port  Tobacco,  he  saw  a  "  Home-Guard  " 
to  recruit  for  slaver)'  established  in  the  town  }  Atzerodt  did  not  for- 
get it,  whose  home  was  in  Port  Tobacco. 

He  came  out  to  Lloyd's  carriage  from  a  large  brick  edifice  with 
massive  forking  chimneys  built  against  it,  and  a  long  porch  on 
squalid  piers — a  house  of  a  tenement  character,  degraded  from  old 
stability  and  pretension  to  be  the  offices  or  lodgings  of  various  peo- 
ple, the  office-holder,  the  lawyer,  the  doctor ;  and  in  the  once  orna- 


rebellion:  367 

mental  garden  stood  an  old  stable  or  shop,  where  Atzerodt  worked 
at  his  trade  of  coach-maker. 

"  Here  is  where  you  wanted  to  bring  Nelly,  Andrew.  It  was 
good  for  her  she  didn't  come." 

"  Py  Jing !  she  proke  dat  Bunker's  heart,  Lloyd.  She'll  preak 
te  next  feller's,  too.     Who  is  he  }     Ain't  it  Pooth  }  " 

"  No,  no.  Nelly  loves  nobody,  Atzerodt.  She  wants  money  and 
admiration.'*' 

"  Den  she'll  cry  her  eyes  out  for  not  taking  me.  Lloyd,  py  Jing ! 
I'm  going  to  rake  money  in  now  easy  as  rakin'  oysters.  Nigger- 
catchin'  is  done.  Te  tam  apolitionists  has  stopped  kidnappin'  and 
remantin'  of  slaves.  Te  Logans  is  all  proke  up.  But  right  here, 
at  Port  Tobacco  Inlet,  te  plockade-runners  will  pe  comin',  and  I've 
got  a  boat  an'  crew  to  run  te  river  to  Fergeenia." 

"•There's  a  rope  spun  for  you,  Andrew  !  You  go  to  Canada,  or 
this  war  will  catch  you  ;  for  it's  going  to  be  a  big  one,  and  you're  a 
poor,  chattering  coward  that  I  wish  no  harm  to.  Where  is  Father 
Fen  wick  ?  " 

"  He's  down  to  St.  Thomas's  Manor,  waitin'  for  you.  Put  stay 
here  to-night.  Yonder's  Captain  Sam  Cox  on  te  porch,  te  ring- 
leader of  Charles  County.  He's  goin'  up  to-morry  or  next  day,  and 
capture  Washington,  py  Jing!  and  cut  ole  Abe  Lincoln's  head 
off!" 

Quantrell  saw  Captain  Cox,  a  fierce,  consumptive-eyed  man, 
standing  at  the  old  tavern. 

"  Here,  Andrew,  take  my  dog,  and  keep  him  till  you  hear  from 
me !  " 

As  Lloyd  drove  away,  Atzerodt  put  up  the  dog  for  drinks  at  the 
tavern-bar,  and  one  of  the  few  government  or  Union  men  in  the 
county  got  him  and  led  him  home. 

Quantrell  continued  along  the  high  banks  of  the  Port  Tobacco 
River,  nearly  a  mile  broad,  and  lighted  by  the  moon,  till  at  its  mouth 
there  stretched  below  the  landing  and  warehouses  of  Chapel  Point, 
and,  on  the  heights  above,  the  venerable  chapel,  mansion,  and  school 
of  St.  Thomas's  Manor. 

This  was  the  most  elegant  establishment  the  Jesuits  possessed 
in  Maryland,  in  those  years  when  they  strained  the  provincial  laws 
to  give  a  private  estate  ecclesiastical  scope  and  opulence.  A  church 
was  connected  with  a  refectory  and  study,  in  handsome  design,  of 
dark-red  brick,  with  Roman  arches  and  heaNy  chimneys,  spire,  wide 


368 


KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 


hall,  and  cool  galler}'  within  the  hall,  and  slave  quarters  ;  for  slavery 
became  more  influential  than  the  Jesuits,  and  it  broke  their  discipline 
down,  till  the  brethren  of  him  who  penetrated  through  the  wilderness 
to  discover  the  Mississippi  yielded  by  the  Potomac  to  the  soft  bland- 
ishments of  master  and  slave*  Behind  the  large  yet  gloomy  con- 
struction the  graves  of  the  Jesuit  brothers  lay  in  myrtle-beds ;  and 
terraced  slopes  and  garden-walks  dropped  away  to  the  shores  of  the 
mighty  Potomac,  here  contracted  to  a  width  of  three  miles ;  and  in 
the  soft  procession  of  the  moon  upon  the  waters  the  Virginia  woods 
at  Mathias  Point  crept  onward,  Uke  an  ambush  of  the  gunner  for  the 
wild  duck. 

Hugh  Fenwick  came  out  and  put  away  Lloyd's  horses.  He 
seemed  half  guest,  half  assistant  there.  They  talked  of  Katy  before 
they  went  to  bed. 

"  Hugh,"  said  Quantrell,  "  I  shall  send  to  you  at  this  place  all 
my  letters.  In  the  morning  I  shall  write  to  Katy,  recommending 
her  to  your  care.  My  father  is  too  ill  to  bear  the  news  of  my  mar- 
riage yet." 

How  deeply  was  the  young  priest  in  religious  enthusiasm  that 
night !  He  would  not  let  Quantrell  sleep,  without  saying  over  him 
the  prayer  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas— to  keep  love's  torments  down. 

"  Get  out,  Hugh  !  "  Quantrell  said,  at  last ;  "  don't  paw  over  me 
so  !     You  seem  to  be  in  what  they  call  '  ecstasy  '  of  some  kind  !  " 

If  he  could  have  peeped  into  Fenwick's  chamb'fer,  Quantrell  might 
have  known  the  cause  of  that  ecstasy,  as  the  student  upon  his  knees 
sighed  out : 

"  Lord,  if  it  pleases  thee  to  continue  this  war  sufficiently  long, 
be  bountifully  gracious  to  forgive  my  sin  in  marrying  this  man  and 
woman."     And  he  might  have  added,  "  Incline  her  heart  to  me !  " 

Quantrell  crossed  Pope's  Creek  and  the  Potomac  next  morning, 
and,  riding  across  the  Northern  Neck,  reached  old  Port  Royal  on 
the  Rappahannock.  The  third  night  he  was  in  Richmond,  and, 
falling  in  with  many  volunteers  he  had  met  at  John  Brown's  scaffold, 
they  took  him  to  a  concert-saloon  to  see  a  remarkable  beauty  who 
had  recently  turned  out. 

The  place  was  coarse  and  without  female  patrons.  Men  smoked 
cigars,  and  waiters  peddled  liquors  up  and  down  the  aisles.  After 
minstrelsy,  dancing,  and  other  variety  entertainment,  a  loud  howl 

*  See  a  curious  book  on  a  residence  in  Maryland  before  the  American 
Revolution,  by  J.  F.  D.  Smyth,  loyalist  officer.     Dublin,  1784. 


rebellion:  369 

arose  from  the  motley  audience  for  the  fresh  favorite  that  is  ever 
requested  and  devoured,  hke  fresh  babes  by  the  sacred  crocodile. 
The  present  slave  of  the  mob  was  announced  as  "  the  dazzling  Pro- 
tean Empress  in  her  reigning  parts  and  dresses,  Miss  Nelly  Starr." 

The  curtain  rose,  and  Nelly  Harbaugh  was  before  Lloyd,  in  even- 
ing dress  of  black  silk — superior  to  the  place  she  stood  in,  as  modesty 
with  beauty  well  might  be.  Instead  of  seeming  coarser,  she  seemed 
better  in  every  way,  more  pale,  more  cold,  more  superb.  She  re- 
cited in  hoarse,  crude,  deep  tones,  and  with  too  little  good  tuition, 
a  ballad  Quantrell  had  heard  from  John  Wilkes  Booth. 

Quantrell  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes,  as  the  curtain  fell,  that 
this  was  the  mountain  weed  which  had  stood  by  his  side  in  the  loft 
of  the  Dunker  church. 

The  first  piece  had  been  above  the  taste  of  the  audience,  but  the 
second  was  cried  for  by  whistling  and  yeUing — the  yell  that  often 
resounded  afterward  on  the  field  of  battle  like  the  Indian  war- 
whoop. 

Nelly  now  appeared  in  knee-breeches  of  velvet  and  a  steel  corset, 
with  a  light  sword  in  her  hand.  Her  long,  mountain-exercised  limbs 
and  trunk  stood  nearly  of  man's  height  and  sinew,  and  her  hair  was 
gathered  up.  After  juggling  with  the  sword  awhile  to  the  sound  of 
music,  she  was  confronted  by  a  "  professor  '  of  fencing,  and,  amid 
the  continued  yelling  of  the  audience,  she  crossed  rapiers  with  him, 
more  in  main  strength  and  rude  pluck  than  in  skill.  Her  prowess 
was  greeted  by  expletives  low  and  familiar,  and,  at  the  disarming  of 
the  professor  by  the  "  Empress,"  Lloyd  saw  her  bosom  heave  when 
she  bowed  her  thanks. 

"  Poor  girl ! "  thought  he,  "  this  audience  is  a  sore  exchange  for 
an  honest  husband." 

The  curtain  soon  rang  up  upon  Nelly  as  "  Virginia  " — the  Virginia 
not  of  Knowles,  but  of  Jefferson,  as  depicted  on  the  seal  of  the  State. 
There  stood  this  fine  and  powdered  woman,  in  the  dress,  or  want  of 
dress,  of  an  Amazon,  with  a  short  tunic,  bodice,  and  sleeves  of  span- 
gles, and  with  sandals  and  helmet,  and  bare  limbs  and  breast — a 
wonder  in  flesh  and  yellow  hair,  stalwart  and  palpitating.  Her  left 
hand  upheld  a  spear ;  from  her  right  hand  fell  a  falchion ;  and  her 
foot  was  upon  a  nondescript  figure  which  lay  prostrate  and  held  a 
broken  chain  and  a  slave-whip. 

"'Sz'c  semper  tyratuiis!' — ever  thus,  tyrants!"  exclaimed  the 
girl,  in  hollow,  untrained  tones,  quoting  the  motto  of  the  State. 


370 


A'ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 


Her  strong  Roman  nose  well  became  the  study,  and  her  fine 
chin  and  throat  and  arching  eyebrows. 

As  she  drooped  her  eyes,  that  had  been  raised  in  dramatic  apos- 
trophe while  the  curtain  was  coming  down,  they  fell  upon  Lloyd 
Ouantrell,  and  she  started ;  her  foot  shook  the  effigy,  her  bare  knee 
trembled,  and  her  lips  parted. 

This  impersonation  had  to  be  several  times  made  to  gratify  the 
Virginians,  but  every  time  the  actress  turned  a  meaning  glance  on 
Lloyd,  whose  companions  finally  noticed  it,  saying: 

"Lloyd,  the  Empress  is  'gone'  on  you.  You're  lucky,  for  she 
has  been  cold  as  ice  to  every  devotee  of  pleasure  in  the  city." 

A  waiter  soon  came  to  Lloyd  with  a  piece  of  paper  on  which 
was  written : 

"  Do  wait  for  me  at  the  door  !    I  want  to  hear  from  home." 

She  came  out  among  officious  and  insinuating  men,  spuming  all 
their  attentions,  and  saw  Lloyd's  tall  figure,  and  took  his  arm. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  to  my  lodgings." 

They  crossed  the  shady  square  under  the  Roman-French  portico 
of  the  old  barn-like  Capitol,  soon  to  be  the  insurgent  government's, 
and  saw  the  great  brass  statue  of  Washington  and  horse  ride  the 
moonlight  like  a  wave  of  electrified  cloud.  Nelly  boarded  with  a 
German  family  from  the  Valley,  and  in  the  little  parlor  she  sat  by 
Lloyd's  knee  and  whispered  nervously : 

"  Luther — is  he  sick  }  " 

"No." 

"  Thank  God  !    But  does  he  accuse  me  ?  " 

"  He  has  never  spoken  of  you  since,  I  hear." 

"  O  Lloyd,  I  could  never  have  filled  the  place  he  would  have 
put  me  in.  Once  I  might  have  done  so.  I  had  struggled  and 
prayed  to  be  made  humble  to  do  my  duty  as  a  Christian  minis- 
ter's wife.  Just  as  I  thought  I  had  triumphed,  the  devil  appeared 
to  me  and  made  me  as  treacherous  as  himself." 

"  It  was  not  John  Booth  ?  " 

"  Who  else  ?  I  will  not  give  you  any  lies.  He  set  his  traps  for 
my  ambition,  and  I  fell  to  hell  with  him  !     Did  he  never  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word.     I  was  sure  it  was  some  other  man — or  none." 

"  Ah  !  Lloyd,  he  can  keep  a  secret  well,  especially  if  it  is  a  dark 
and  tangled  one.  That  he  calls  honor — to  betray  and  not  scandal- 
ize his  victim — as  if  a  woman  would  be  content  to  find  him  false  in 
everything  but  that ! "    ■ 


REBELLION. 


371 


"  Nelly,  you  hate  him." 

"  I  fear  him  more.  There  is  not  one  man  in  him,  but  many. 
Three  devils  possess  him  at  different  times,  or  all  together — pride, 
drink,  and  lust.  The  first  and  last  of  these  are  steadfast ;  the  sec- 
ond is  never  far  off.  When  he  was  drunk,  I  let  him  strike  me. 
When  he  was  proud  and  bullying,  I  flattered  him.  When  he  was 
false  to  me,  I  knew  him,  then,  as  I  shall  always  know  him,  like  a 
treacherous  mountain  stream,  shallow  but  with  dark  pools  until 
there  is  a  flood,  and  then  it  is  a  terror." 

"  Are  you  sure  he  was  untrue  }  " 

"  Pah !  Everybody  knew  it.  He  expected  me  to  nurse  him  after 
the  fatigues  of  villainy.  At  Montgomery,  in  Alabama,  one  woman 
stabbed  him,  and  then  he  came  to  me  for  sympathy,  having  the 
cool  selfishness  to  suppose  that  where  he  really  loved  no  offense 
could  be  taken ;  for,  Lloyd,  if  that  gypsy  can  love  anybody,  he  loves 
me." 

"  God  help  him,  then  !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd,  ungallantly.  "  Why  do 
you  call  him  a  gypsy .''  " 

"  He  looks  like  one.  He  acts  like  one.  I  have  seen  real  gypsies 
in  our  mountain  country,  some  of  them  English  gypsies  camping 
there.  I  think  the  boast  of  John  Booth,  that  he  was  partly  Jew, 
was  to  conceal  the  gypsy  in  his  stock.  He  loves  a  wandering  life, 
has  no  social  feelings,  finds  things  out  to  profit  by  them  like  gypsy 
fortune-tellers,  and  can  be  still  and  cunning  as  a  cat." 

"  You  mean  he  is  like  Hannah  Ritner  ?  " 

"  No.  She  is  no  gypsy,  but  a  wonderful  woman.  Part  of  all 
our  fortunes  has  come  true  as  she  told  us  that  peaceful  Sunday 
when  I  was  well  beloved — " 

The  girl  stopped  and  choked  down  a  sob,  and  walked  the  room 
rapidly,  till  Ouantrell  said  : 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  all  '  the  game  beneath  the  sun  has  risen  before 
me '  since — raiders,  rioters,  soldiers,  tumult,  and  war ;  Katy  has  lost 
her  ring ;  and  '  something  dark  and  white  has  marked  you,  Nelly, 
with  the  dark ' ;  but,  blessed  be  my  dear  little  dove !  I  have  the 
promise  that  she  shall  yet  sing  for  me." 

"  Go  back  to  her ! "  Nelly  turned  and  addressed  Lloyd  with  a 
vigor  which  made  him  see  that  the  natural  actress  was  there;  "go 
back  out  of  this  South,  with  its  fierce,  torrid  passions  and  hopeless 
and  audacious  task  of  destruction !  I  love  you  and  Katy  both, 
cheated  and  fallen  as  I  am,  and  I  speak  out  of  the  arisen  knowl- 


372 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


edge  of  good  and  evil  that  woman  has  who  has  eaten  of  the  for- 
bidden fruit.  There  is  nothing  whatever  in  this  Confederacy  that 
is  substantial,  except  courage  and  ferocity.  Forethought,  humility, 
or  lawfulness,  is  left  out  of  its  constitution,  and  it  will  fight  and 
fail." 

"  Nelly,  that  won't  do  here.  I  am  a  soldier  of  Virginia." 
"  And  I  am  going  back  to  the  Union  lines  !  Haven't  we  followed 
this  disunion  programme  with  our  company — I  mean  Booth's  com- 
pany— wherever  it  has  made  a  crowd.?  We  saw  South  Carolina 
secede  and  forbid  the  payment  of  Northern  debts,  and  steal  the 
government  forts.  We  saw  Alabama  go  next,  and  refuse  to  let  her 
people  vote  on  the  ordinance  of  treason.  Mississippi,  without  any 
public  credit  in  the  world,  next  resolved  to  fight  the  United  States, 
which  pays  rich  and  poor.  They  made  the  Union  orator  in  Georgia 
drunk  at  dinner,  so  that  his  eloquence,  which  had  been  dangerous 
in  the  morning,  would  be  silly  enough  in  the  afternoon  to  pass  their 
silly  scheme.  The  first  act  of  Louisiana,  after  separating,  was  to 
steal  the  money  in  the  mint,  and  of  Texas  to  depose  her  President 
and  hero,  General  Houston.  These  are  the  States  which  expect  to 
raise  cotton  in  the  rear  and  let  the  border,  like  Virginia  and  Mary- 
land, be  overrun  with  their  savages.  Don't  I  know  it.''  Haven't 
I  heard  them  talk  it  in  my  presence.?  This  rebel  government  is 
nothing  but  officeholders  out  of  power  and  slaveholders  out  of 
hope,  meaning  to  keep  by  force  the  offices  the  Black  Republicans 
have  been  elected  to ;  and  they  will  conscript  their  poor  whites  to 
fight  for  their  negroes,  until  the  hollow  bubble  breaks  to  a  drop  of 
lye,  and  then  everybody,  except  the  fools,  will  be  glad." 

"  How  co\AAyou  have  seen  the  gentlemen  of  the  South.'  " 
"  Oh,  an  actor  is  a  good  deal  more.  South  than  North.  That  is 
why  John  Booth  is  such  a  Southern  patriot.  Think  of  that  man 
being  invited  into  respectable  families,  with  his  forked  tongue  and 
luring  eyes  !  He  cheated  me  of  my  promised  place  in  the  bills  and 
the  casts  ! " — here  Nelly  seemed  to  show  a  double  fury — "  but  I  had 
my  callers  and  admirers,  too — generals,  governors,  coxcombs,  and 
simperers — and  none  without  a  title.  The  poor  old  officers  of  the 
army  and  navy  they  have  compelled  to  resign,  told  me  their  real  re- 
morse and  apprehension,  at  being  made  the  waiting  beggars  of  an 
experiment ;  for  in  this  confederacy  all  must  join  the  dance  of  death 
— all  but  the  niggers,  who  are  the  princes  of  the  country,  and  white 
men's  sons  go  fight  for  them  ! " 


REBELLION. 


373 


"  How  did  you  get  this  fluency  of  words,  Nelly  ?  " 

"  By  the  great  teachers  of  unhappy  women,  Lloyd — Sin  and  Ne- 
cessity. I  have  studied  hard,  in  order  not  to  be  dependent  on  that 
man  Booth.  He  has  made  thousands  of  dollars  in  this  unsettled, 
feverish  time,  when  towns  fill  up  with  crowds,  and  men  grumble, 
and  women  lose  their  souls.  By  the  sharpened  wits  of  the  castaway 
I  see  my  needs,  and  earn  money  as  I  can ;  for  I  am  going  to  work 
hard  to  be  a  successful  woman,  and  to  marry  the  man  I  love.  He 
will  fall,  somehow,  too;  we  shall  both  have  much  to  forgive.  But 
when  I  can  earn  my  thousands  in  the  eminent  walks  of  the  drama  I 
shall  be  worthy  of  his  notice  again,  and  I  know — oh,  I  know ! — he 
loves  me  dearly  !  " 

Falling  upon  her  knees,  the  girl  grasped  Lloyd's  hands,  and  cried 
again  and  again  : 

"  Oh,  tell  me  so  !  Oh,  tell  me  so  !  I  am  so  lonesone  for  my 
love  ! " 

"  Nelly,  it  is  a  mercy  to  Luther  that  you  roved  away  before  you 
married  him  !  He  did  love  you,  and  he  may  love  you  yet,  but  he 
sees  you  now  too  well  to  marry  you,  and  he  was  slow  and  reluctant 
to  ask  you  ;  for  I  was  there,  and  you  said  you  could  obey  him  with 
joy,  and  do  your  part  in  toil  and  saving  for  his  sake." 

"  I  did  !  I  did  !  If  I  could  be  forgiven  now,  I  would  leave  this 
life  of  tinsel  and  jealousy,  where  we  are  homeless,  persecuted,  and 
tempted,  and  fed  on  hollow  praise,  to  be  Luther  Bosler's  Dunker 
wife,  and  ride  with  him  through  our  native  hills  and  valleys,  visiting 
the  sick,  praying  with  the  dying,  seeking  out  the  poor,  and  seeing 
my  applause  in  the  softly  beaming  stars,  or  feeling  it  in  my  peaceful 
soul  and  on  his  tender  kiss.     Will  it  ever  come,  Lloyd  .'*  " 

"  Nelly,  I  can't  see  it,  but  many  things  are  possible  to  the  perse- 
vering, and  God  forbid  that  I  discourage  you  !  for  my  father  says 
that  love  can  distill  its  own  corruptions  and  be  pure,  and  that  I  must 
not  harshly  judge  love's  aberrations." 

"  God  bless  his  old  age  for  that  !  "  Nelly  cried.  "  There  was  but 
one  man  kind  enough  to  say  so  before  your  father,  and  he  was  the 
Lord  of  heaven  and  earth." 

"  My  poor  girl,  it  was  said  by  that  man,  '  Go  and  sin  no  more  !  * 
Can  you  obey  him  }  " 

She  rocked  her  head,  intimating  contrition  and  obedience. 

"  In  my  father's  spirit,"  spoke  Lloyd,  "and  not  to  judge  love's 
many  willfulnesses  and  wandering  paths,  and  because,  Nelly,  I  see 


374 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


in  you  now  a  sensibility  that  interests  me  in  your  disposition  for  the 
first  time,  I  offer  you  my  friendship  and  confidence." 

He  reached  out  his  hand.  She  drew  back  and  looked  at  him. 
saying : 

"  You  tempting,  too  }  " 

"  No,  my  own  dear  love  forbids  !  Katy  is  mourning  for  me — 
perhaps,  also,  as  one  without  hope." 

"O  brother  among  sinners!  Gentlest  of  proud  and  over- 
bearing men !  May  you,  who  can  see  anything  good  in  me,  find 
good  in  everything !  " 

She  took  his  hand,  and  he  kissed  her  as  he  would  have  kissed 
Light  Pittson,  in  tender  pity  and  respect. 

Often,  while  she  remained  in  Virginia,  Lloyd  consoled  this 
woman,  generally  taking  her  home  from  the  variety  hall,  and  all 
may  have  misconceived  his  motive;  for  it  is  the  despair  of  an 
erring  woman  that  none  can  think  of  her  except  in  her  false  rela- 
tion, and  they  who  treat  her  otherwise  suffer  in  the  same  uncharity. 

Quantrell  had  other  occasions  to  refer  his  conduct  to  his  father's 
principles. 

He  was  not  only  tempted  to  enter  independent,  partisan,  or 
guerrilla  organizations,  and  assume  that  Marjiand  had  left  the 
Union,  and  that  he  was  entitled  to  carry  her  flag  lawlessly ;  but  the 
Virginia  authorities,  to  whom  he  transferred  his  allegiance,  desired 
him  to  do  a  semi-spy  business  for  them  on  the  lower  Potomac. 

"Not  a  step  will  I  make,"  answered  Quantrell,  "except  as  a 
soldier  in  line  !  You  can  have  my  life  in  fair  war,  but  my  father's 
last  command  was,  '  Never  lurk  within  the  lines  in  Maryland,  and 
be  a  spy  and  a  villain.'  " 

In  spite  of  all  attempts  to  carry  Maryland  into  the  great  rebel- 
lion, the  city  of  Baltimore  was  occupied  by  the  government,  and 
gave  no  further  trouble  except  in  the  way  Abel  Quantrell  feared,  of 
being  of  an  uncertain  mind — trjung  to  save  the  whole  of  slavery 
with  one  hand,  a  silly  consistency  with  the  other,  and  some  of  the 
Union  if  that  Union,  could  take  care  of  itself.  Virginia  was  cut  in 
twain  by  her  western  citizens,  never  to  be  repatched,  and  the 
western  volunteers  chased  the  secession  troops  across  the  Allegha- 
nies. 

The  insurgent  President  and  Congress  moved  to  Richmond,  as 
Nelly  Harbaugh  had  predicted,  two  months  after  they  commenced 
the  war,  and  Lloyd  heard  the  former  person  describe  the  President 


REBELLION. 


375 


at  Washington  in  the  polite  terms  of  "an  ignorant  usurper,"  and 
speak  of  Virginia  as  "  the  theatre  of  a  great  central  camp."  The 
theatre,  indeed,  seemed  to  have  become  the  society.  This  "  Presi- 
dent," from  one  of  the  Gulf  States,  closed  by  saying,  "  To  the 
enemy  we  leave  the  base  acts  of  the  assassin  and  incendiary." 

Yet,  the  next  day,  Quantrell  w^as  sent  for  and  told  to  go  over  into 
Maryland  and  aiTange  for  a  secret  mail  post,  to  give  the  new  gov- 
ernment the  correspondence  of  its  opponents.  He  refused  to  go 
farther  than  the  borders  of  Virginia,  and  became  a  signal-officer 
opposite  Pope's  Creek. 

There  lived  on  the  opposite  high  mortar  bluffs  of  Maryland  a 
simple  farmer,  who  had  been  raised  in  the  family  of  the  most  ener- 
getic rebel  in  that  region — namely,  the  Captain  Cox  who  was 
pointed  out  to  Lloyd  in  Port  Tobacco.  This  Captain  Sam  Cox 
hved  about  six  miles  north  from  his  humbler  neighbor,  Jones,  in  an 
agreeable  residence  near  the  edge  of  the  great  Zekiah  Swamp, 
which  flowed  from  springs  near  Dr.  Sam  Mudd's  retired  farm. 

The  insurgent  mail  passed  to  Jones's  Bluff  in  a  row-boat  every 
sunset,  was  sent  on  to  Cox's  by  wood-paths,  and  went  thence  to 
Bryantown  or  Sam  Mudd's,  according  to  the  urgency;  and  so  a 
secret  post-road  was  made  all  the  way  to  Canada ;  the  government 
mails,  intended  to  benefit  the  humble  Marylanders,  thus  remote 
from  railways,  being  unscrupulously  loaded  with  treasonable  intelli- 
gence, and  the  cabal  of  plotters  in  Montreal  and  Halifax  receiving 
by  this  route  commands  for  material  to  run  the  blockade,  and  for 
incendiaries  and  pirates  to  annoy  the  free  States  from  the  rear. 

Surratt's  tavern  and  post-office  often  received  this  surreptitious 
mail  for  Washington,  and  soon  after  the  war  opened  Mrs.  Surratt 
was  left  a  widow,  young,  fond,  and  passing  fair,  and  the  young 
clerical  of  a  son  became  the  head  of  the  family. 

None  can  tell  how  much  a  foreign  interest,  like  the  great  Rebel- 
lion, poisons  an  enterprising  society  through  which  may  flow  one  of 
its  secret  drains.  The  liquor-dealer,  Martin,  who  had  accompanied 
Lloyd  Quantrell  to  the  lower  Potomac,  following  out  the  clew  of 
this  secret  thread  to  its  termination  in  Canada,  soon  became  a  fitter- 
out  of  ships  there,  to  run  the  blockade  of  the  Southern  ports ;  for 
now  the  government  and  people  were  aroused,  and  a  coil  was 
being  slowly  drawn  around  the  ambitious  slave  empire ;  but  the 
processes  of  law  are  ever  more  scrupulous  and  gentle  than  the 
spasms  of  insurrection,  and  it  often  seemed  to  Quantrell  as  if  the 


376 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


Federal  state  meant,  like  the  founder  of  its  era,  to  be  offered  up  to 
martyrdom  rather  than  to  exert  its  heavenly  powers  and  overwhelm 
its  enemy. 

The  character  of  people,  and  their  errands,  who  crossed  the 
river  in  the  boats  of  Jones  and  others  between  Port  Tobacco  and 
Pope's  Creek,  tended  to  confirm  Lloyd's  appreciation  of  his  father's 
acumen  and  advice.  Mischief  and  avarice  were  their  ruling  motives, 
with  some  incidental  devotion  or  necessity,  and  frequently  nothing 
more  profitable  than  restless  curiosity  or  assurance. 

Some  were  trimmers  and  parasites,  who  desired  to  make  their 
compliments  to  the  insurgent  side  in  case  it  finally  prevailed,  and 
slip  back  again  and  court  the  other  government  with  timid  counsel 
or  interference.  Others  were  speculators — a  class  just  graduated 
from  the  lobbies  of  legislatures,  corporations,  and  exchange,  in  time 
to  practice  their  craft  in  the  fluctuations  and  surprises  of  a  civil  war, 
as  wide  as  the  continent,  and  paid  for  in  notes  and  currencies  issued 
for  the  hour. 

The  contractor,  the  arms-manufacturer,  the  peddler,  the  gold- 
broker,  the  insurer,  the  schemer  and  hare-brained  notoriety-seeker ; 
the  Jew,  traveling  toward  gold  with  the  instinct  of  iron  for  the  load- 
stone ;  the  broken  Northern  politician,  out  of  a  job,  and  willing  to 
serve  any  cause  that  would  let  him  repay  his  salary  in  lip-service  or 
gasconade  ;  the  sinister  lawyer,  seeking  to  snatch  some  interest  from 
danger  or  confiscation  ;  the  huckster  for  cotton  or  treasonable  loans; 
the  military  beggar,  of  ruined  .habits,  hunting  a  new  commission ; 
the  foreign  mercenary,  yesterday  in  jail,  going  to  demand  a  gener- 
alcy ;  the  newspaper  spy,  intent  on  the  highest  sensation ;  the  ad- 
venturess, who  had  heard  that  her  intimate  had  become  a  cabinet 
minister;  the  seduced  one,  braving  battle  and  insult  to  save  her 
good  name,  and  obtain  the  marriage-cloak  in  which  to  plague  so- 
ciety more;  the  loud-throated  woman,  who  expected  to  beat  the 
government  forces  by  bellows-power  and  innuendo  ;  the  popinjay, 
sneaking  over  to  enlist  and  run  away,  or  not  to  enlist  and  take  credit 
for  "  patriotism  "  ;  the  aged  crank,  switching  up  some  vagary  on 
which  he  had  ridden  for  years  and  been  a  bore  to  his  species ;  the 
clergyman  whose  congregation  had  refused  to  let  him  preach  dis- 
union and  be  paid  for  it — all  these  swelled  the  motley  tide  of  re- 
bellion, and  made  even  dull  men  think  how  their  English  ancestors 
had  put  treason  highest  of  crimes,  because  it  would  supplant  the 
system  and  order  of  the  million  with  the  wild  anarchy  of  the  impa- 


REBELLION.  377 

tient  and  ungovernable.  A  frequent  errand  of  the  go-between  was 
to  sell  slaves  on  which  he  had  a  lien  or  heritage-right,  and  then  run 
away  from  the  war,  and  be  sleek  and  compromising. 

The  citizens  of  Maryland  soon  lost  many  of  their  slaves,  although 
the  Union  army  would  return  these  and  get  no  thanks  ;  while  some 
of  the  slaves  remained  in  nominal  bondage  in  order  to  enjoy  the 
profits  and  vices  of  the  contraband  trade. 

Along  the  Virginia  shore  batteries  were  thrown  up  to  annoy 
shipping  bound  for  Washington  and  the  army;  light  gunboats 
cruised  the  river,  and  finally  destroyed  most  of  the  yawls  and  skiffs 
on  the  Maryland  side ;  but  there  were  women  to  do  the  work  of 
spies  after  the  men  had  been  intimidated,  and  who  trusted  to  the 
faith  of  men  in  women  and  men's  untoward  mercy  for  their  safety. 

In  the  residences,  standing  high  on  the  bluffs  below  Pope's  Creek, 
a  shawl  or  a  dress  would  appear  at  a  garret-window  and  be  read  by 
Ouantrell's  telescope  to  mean—"  Danger  !  Beware  !  "  A  woman's 
hand  had  stretched  it,  and  perjury  had  been  willful  in  her  soul ;  for 
the  government  administered  oaths  of  allegiance  to  all  who  pre- 
ferred its  protection,  or  sent  them  within  the  insurgent  lines. 

When  this  signal  appeared,  no  boat  would  leave  Virginia  ;  when 
it  was  withdrawn,  the  rebellion  mail-boat  darted  out  in  the  neutral 
light  between  sunset  and  the  hour  of  setting  the  night-patrol,  and 
came  unobserved  to  the  foot  of  the  bluffs  of  shell  and  clay,  left  the 
mail  in  a  hollow  tree,  took  the  return  mail  previously  put  there,  and 
so  glided  back  to  Virginia  like  a  water-snake. 

The  United  States  never  exerted  its  repressive  hand  like  the 
fierce  enemy ;  and  so  the  wages  of  avarice  or  mischief  outbid  the 
mild,  occasional  punishment  of  the  spy,  until  one  day,  when  it  was 
too  late,  and  the  world  was  in  woe,  a  single  woman  paid  the  penalty 
of  her  sex ;  and  the  gallows,  which  should  h^^ve  met  Lloyd  Quan- 
trell's  telescope  when  he  peered  out  at  Maryland,  became  the  solemn 
conclusion  of  the  war. 

Atzerodt  went  into  the  trade  of  running  the  lines,  and  became 
more  wretched  and  blustering  than  ever ;  he  would  also  drive  spies 
and  strangers  toward  Washington,  stopping  at  Surratt's  tavern. 

Nelly  Starr  and  Booth  passed  the  Potomac  one  day  northward, 
apparently  reconciled,  and  Booth  had  a  new  piece  of  poetry  he  re- 
peated with  admiration,  which  had  been  written  in  Louisiana,  to 
seduce  Maryland  to  take  the  leap  from  treason's  Tarpeian  rock.  It 
was  set  to  the  German  air  of  "  Tannenbaum,"  and  said : 


378 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  Hark  to  a  wandering  son's  appeal, 

Maryland  I 
My  mother  State  !  to  thee  I  kneel, 

Maryland  ! 
For  life  or  death,  for  woe  or  weal, 
Thy  peerless  chivalry  reveal. 
And  gird  thy  beauteous  limbs  with  steel, 

Maryland  !  my  Maryland  !* 

"  Dear  mother  !  burst  the  tyrant's  chain, 

Maryland  ! 
Virginia  should  not  call  in  vain — 

'  Maryland  !' 
She  meets  her  sisters  on  the  plain  ; 
'  Sic  semper,'  'tis  the  proud  refrain 
That  baffles  minions  back  again — 

Maryland  ! 
Arise  in  majesty  again, 

Maryland  !  my  Maryland  !  " 

Booth  had  a  mind  up  to  the  instinctive  grade  of  this  poetry,  and 
no  higher.  He  had  been  in  the  military  lines  a  very  little  while,  and 
found  discipline  too  tame  for  his  nature,  and  so  he  was  leaving  the 
South  to  fly  from  its  sacrifices,  but  gorged  with  the  consideration  he 
had  received  there. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  John  ?  " 

"  Lloyd,  I'll  try  the  stage  in  the  Yankee  States  awhile,  but  they 
never  warmed  to  my  style  up  there.  If  I  fail,  I  shall  go  into  some 
of  their  speculations  and  make  a  stake  out  of  them,  and  then — " 

"  John,  are  you  going  to  take  all  that  money  you  drew  from  the 
Southern  people,  out  of  their  countiy  }  If  you  are  really  a  brave 
man,  send  it  to  your  mother,  and  come  into  the  ranks  !  " 

Booth  bent  his  face  to  Quantrell's  ear  as  he  stepped  into  the  ca- 
noe, and  whispered  : 

"  My  boy,  you'll  hear  from  me  before  this  war  is  over ! " 


Lloyd  did  hear  from  John  Beall,  before  the  war  had  well  begun. 

That  young  man  of  twenty-six,  tortured  with  apprehensions  and 

by  furies,  had  nearly  departed  for  the  Western  States  to  be  out  of 

*  "  O  Tannenbaum  !     O  Tannenbaum  ! 
Wie  grun  sind  deine  Blatter  ! " 


REBELLIOX. 


379 


the  reach  of  the  war ;  but,  sucked  into  its  Maelstrom,  he  stood,  on 
the  second  anniversary  of  Captain  John  Brown's  invasion,  in  the 
vicinity  of  his  home,  looking  through  the  Lurlei's  gap  of  Harper's 
Ferry,  where  ever  sat  the  siren  above  the  "  Suck,"  and  he  saw  the 
Union  flag  advancing,  and  the  wide  valley  full  of  bayonets. 

"  John  Brown's  re-enforcements  have  come  at  last,  friend,"  spoke 
Quantrell,  riding  by.  Lloyd  had  been  given  the  congenial  place  of 
signal-man  to  General  Joe  Johnston,  who  was  now  trying  to  prove 
to  his  employers  that  Harper's  Ferry  was  a  hole  and  not  a  rampart 
— but  neither  government  could  believe  it. 

In  five  minutes  more,  Mr.  Beall,  who  had  been  shooting  at  the 
"  enemy  "  with  the  cheerless  rage  of  a  Covenanter  on  Magus  Moor, 
was  lying  on  the  ground,  with  three  ribs  broken  and  an  air-crack  in 
his  right  lung.  The  district  attorney,  who  had  prosecuted  John 
Brown  to  the  gallows,  picked  the  young  man  up  and  carried  him  to 
Charlestown,  which  was  already  familiar  with  another  ballad  of  the 
war,  sung  in  its  streets  by  advancing  and  retreating  thousands : 

"  John  Brown's  knapsack  is  packed  upon  his  back. 
And  his  soul's  marching  on. 

Glory,  glor)',  hallelujah  ! 
For  his  soul's  marching  on." 

The  general  to  watch  Harper's  Ferry  and  prevent  that  hole  from 
deserting  somewhere,  let  the  insurgent  army  behind  it  slip  away 
through  the  Blue  Ridge  and  swell  the  army  on  Manassas  plateau ; 
and  a  battle  took  place,  where  three  thousand  fellow-countrymen 
gasped  or  sighed  in  pain  and  dissolution. 

"  John  Brown's  army  has  failed  once  more,"  thought  Quantrell ; 
"  but  what  a  scare  he  gave  us,  as  before  !  " 

The  behavior  of  Lloyd  in  this  battle  was  so  fearless  and  cool, 
that  he  would  have  been  promoted,  except  for  three  things — the  uni- 
versal desire  for  office  and  commissions ;  the  utility  of  Lloyd  to  affect 
his  native  State  in  its  peace  and  seclusion  ;  and  a  whisper  that  he 
was  unsound  on  Slavery  as  the  particular  lamb  of  Christ  and  main 
purpose  of  salvation. 

So  he  was  sent  back  to  the  lower  Potomac,  to  superintend  the  chief 
sally-port  of  the  blockaded  hydra,  and  there  he  waited  to  hear  from 
his  wife,  in  love's  great  thirst  and  hunger ;  while  Hugh  Fenwick,  on 
the  opposite  shore,  sent  him  reports  of  her  spiritual  condition — re- 
minding him  of  Luther  Bosler's  hostility  to  rebels,  and  Jake  Bos- 


38o 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


ler's  hatred  of  all  warriors  and  peace-breakers  ;  and  poor  Lloyd  had 
promised  his  father  never  to  enter  Maryland,  and  could  verify  noth- 
ing for  himself.  At  last  he  did  receive  a  letter  in  Katy's  hand,  and 
with  Hugh  Fenwick's  addendum  : 

"  Lloyd  :  I  haf  been  faithful.  Haf  you,  Lloyd  ?  Sir,  I  am  a  poor 
girl,  and  I  haf  no  wedding-ring.  People  and  eyes  up  in  heafen,  too, 
looks  at  me,  Lloyd.  You  haf  deceived  me ;  but  I  bless  you,  if  I 
must  die  !  Katy." 

Quantrell  had  been  playing  Katy's  accordion,  and  he  took  it  up 
and  drew  a  shriek  of  anguish  from  it  to  stifle  his  own. 

Queer  pains  had  been  in  his  head  and  back  all  that  day,  and  his 
ears  were  buzzing;  and  as  he  read  what  Hugh  Fenwick  added, 
his  eyes  sv/am  and  he  could  not  see : 

"  Lloyd  :  Your  wife  has  run  away  from  home  and  can  not  be 
found.  They  say  in  the  Catoctin  Valley  that  you  are  the  cause  of 
it.  She  knows  that  in  Richmond  your  heart  and  honor  were  trans- 
ferred to  Nelly  Harbaugh,  the  actress,  and  it  broke  her  heart.  I 
pray  for  you  and  for  the  cause.  Pray  for  me,  who  married  you  in 
error !  You  are  free  from  Katy,  and  she  is  as  your  widow.  ChrisHe 
Eleisonf  t  HUGH."' 

"  O  Abel !  my  father !  "  cried  Quantrell ;  "  come  to  me  in  my 
desolation !  Nothing  is  left  but  you — no  mother,  no  country,  no 
wife  !  " 

They  said  it  was  the  bilious  fever  of  the  old  Potomac  country, 
which  laid  him  for  months  on  the  bed  of  fire  and  ice,  and  raised  him 
to  be  the  shadow  of  himself. 


CHAPTER   XXXVL 

CRESCITE   ET    MULTIPLICAMINI. 


Katy  had  grown  close  to  her  brother  in  her  desertion,  and  he, 
deserted  by  Nelly,  made  his  sister  his  idol,  and  lilled  her  pure  soul 
with  spiritual  food.  Suspecting  that  the  flight  of  Lloyd  had  given 
her  pain,  Luther,  never  dreaming  of  his  sister's  matronhood,  kept  her 


CRESCITE   ET  MULTIPLICAMINI.  381 

tenderly  at  his  side,  and  every  Dunker  congregation  along  the  South 
and  North  Mountains,  from  Virginia  to  the  Susquehanna,  knew  this 
constant  couple. 

Long  before  day  they  would  be  up  and  away,  to  attend  market 
at  remote  old  towns  like  York,  Carlisle,  and  Winchester ;  or  auc- 
tion-sales, to  which  the  country  people  loved  to  repair ;  or  Dunker 
love-feasts  and  celebrations.  In  those  still,  starlight  times,  in  the 
hush  of  mountains  and  of  woods,  Luther  told  Katy  of  creeds,  and 
heard  her  prattle  of  everything  but  that  which  made  her  soul  cold 
with  fear. 

Little  did  he  know  that  the  miracle  was  repeated  of  which  he 
often  preached,  in  that  tiny  form  at  his  side,  or  that  quickened 
spirits  rode  with  him,  and  that  they,  twain,  were  not  alone  together. 

She,  filled  with  the  agony  of  a  double  secret,  looked  upon  her 
brother  as  her  priest  and  judge  ;  but  she  dared  not  make  him  her 
confessor.  That  place  Hugh  Fenwick  filled,  and  his  consideration 
for  Katy  was  equal  to  her  brother's. 

She  inspired  love  more  now  than  ever,  as  she  bloomed  out  of 
the  scrawny  stem  of  girlhood  to  life's  accomplishment ;  and  poor 
Jake  Bosler,  who  had  feared  her  nervous  energy  and  premature  pas- 
sion of  love  were  breaking  her  down,  saw  with  joy  that  his  child 
rounded  and  grew  more  beautiful,  until  she  almost  made  him  fear. 

"  Katy  leave  fader — Bi'm-by,"  said  Jake,  thinking  of  marriage  for 
his  girl. 

"  Fader,"  said  Katy,  "  I  must  wait  for  Lloyd.  Will  te  war  last 
long,  fader  ?  " 

"  Te  city  mans,  Katy,  fooled  your  little  heart.  Tere's  Nelly  down 
in  Washington,  gone  from  Luter  to  pe  wicked.  My  little  girl,  if  you 
would  leave  fader  like  dat,  my  heart  would  preak  on  my  olty's 
grave." 

As  Jake  Bosler  kissed  her,  he  did  not  know  the  pain  he  had 
made.  Katy  prayed  and  prayed,  and  lay  awake  hearing  the  rain 
upon  the  roof,  and  walked  to  the  window  in  the  night  and  saw  the 
valley,  in  ghostly  sheets  of  fog,  fall  like  a  deluge  around  a  nearly  sub- 
merged world ;  or  saw  some  red  planet  burn  on  the  mountain's 
crest,  like  shame  with  leveled  eye  seeking  her  out. 

She  lost  her  brother,  too,  when  his  rising  indignation  at  the  se- 
cession intrigues,  and  at  repeated  raids  upon  the  Dunker  valleys, 
recalled  to  his  warm  brain  the  soldierly  prophecy  of  that  singular 
woman  who  did  not  merely  tell  fortunes,  but  told,  and  instigated. 


382  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

character  also — Hannah  Ritner ;  and  as  Luther  stood  in  the  Dunker 
meeting-houses  to  pray,  there  would  roll  through  his  mind  like  a 
drum : 

"  Attend  the  bugle-horn, 
And  all  thy  merit  see  !  " 

The  influence  of  Abel  Quantrell,  that  strange,  suggestive  man, 
like  the  prophet  Samuel,  carrying  among  the  sons  of  Jesse  his 
anointing  horn,  was  also  felt  by  Luther,  and  his  admonition,  "  Go,  tell 
your  people  everywhere  that  Christ  is  for  liberty,"  had  never  ceased 
to  plague  the  Dunker  preacher's  conscience. 

At  last  he  raised  his  voice,  like  Balaam  of  old,  and  blessed  the 
Union  camps,  almost  against  his  will. 

The  old  Dunker  conservatives  heard  him,  and  muttered  together 
that,  since  that  worldly  Nelly  had  cast  him  off,  his  talents  and  mental 
disorder  had  made  him  a  lunatic.  In  vain  did  he  demonstrate  that 
the  German  Baptists  were  the  oldest  anti-slavery  men  in  the  world, 
saying  in  Antietam  church  : 

"  Te  German  brethren  was  te  first  apolitionists.  In  German's 
town,  py  Philadelphey,  when  te  earliest  slaveholding  Quakers  had 
only  peen  six  year  in  tis  country,  te  protest  against  slavery  was 
writ  py  Hendricks,  Op  den  Graeff,  and  Pastorius,  saying :  '  We  are 
against  te  traffic  in  mens-body.  Those  who  steal  men,  and  those 
who  buy  or  purchase  them,  are  they  not  all  alike  ?  As  here  is  lib- 
erty of  conscience,  which  is  right  and  reasonable,  here  ought  to  pe 
hkewise  liberty  of  pody,  except  of  evil-doers.  This  makes  an  ill 
report  in  all  those  countries  of  Europe  where  they  hear  that  "  ye 
Quakers  doe  here  handel  men  like  they  there  handel  ye  cattle  " ; 
and  for  that  reason  some  have  no  mind  or  inclination  to  come  hither. 
Have  tese  negers  not  as  much  right  to  fight  for  teir  freedom  as  you 
have  to  keep  tern  slaves  ?  '  "  * 

The  English  secessionists  fanned  the  Dunker  hostility  to  Luther" 
favoring  war  and  resistance,  and  he  realized  the  marvelous  foresight 
of  the  prophetess  who  had  counseled  : 

"  Though  in  the  church  they  censure  some, 
Pain  and  duty  keep  thee  dumb  !  " 

The  slaughter  of  Senator  Baker's  command  at  Ball's  Bluff — he 
who  had  been  President  Lincoln's  neighbor  and  Broderick's  funeral 
eulogist — aroused  the  German  military  nature,  as  the  musketry  re- 

*  Penn}T5acker's  "  Settlement  of  Germantown,  Pennsylvania." 


CRESCITE  ET  MULTIPLICAMINI. 


383 


verberated  on  the  Maryland  hills  ;  and  from  the  town  where  Booth 
was  born,  another  Union  Governor  was  selected.  The  insidious 
Legislature,  which  had  slipped  away  to  Frederick,  was  dispersed  by 
the  government  before  it  could  assume  to  vote  Maryland  out  of  the 
Union,  and  the  two  Maryland  regiments  drew  each  other's  blood 
in  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  fighting  under  the  old  and  the  opposite 
flags. 

Before  all  this  had  happened,  Luther  enacted  the  part  of  Muh- 
lenberg of  old. 

He  preached  one  peaceful  autumn  Sunday  ;  drew  tears  by  his 
emotion  and  eloquence  ;  solemnly  suspended  himself  from  the  Dunker 
sect,  and  rode  to  old  Sandy  Hook,  where  General  Banks  was  col- 
lecting an  army,  and  enlisted  as  a  private  soldier  in  the  cavalry. 

While  he  was  at  Charlestown,  encamped  on  the  site  of  John 
Brovk'n's  gallows,  his  colonel  sent  for  him  and  gave  him  a  letter.  He 
opened  it  and  found  a  commission  as  captain  in  the  quartermaster's 
department  by  order  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  at  the  request  of  Abel 
Quantrell  and  Henry  Winter  Davis.  Luther  trembled,  as  he  re- 
membered the  lines : 

"  To  hollow  heart  the  hollow  drum 
Beats  peace  and  victory." 

Luther  was  ordered  to  repair  to  the  city  of  Washington,  where 
Mr.  Davis — the  only  Marylander  who  had  voted  in  either  branch  of 
Congress  for  compensated  emancipation,  in  both  the  Federal  city 
and  his  own  State — took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  to  the  new 
Secretary  of  War,  saying  : 

"  Mr.  Stanton,  you  wanted  an  honest  man  to  supervise  your 
quartermasters  and  buy  horses  and  forage  for  your  armies.  Here  he 
is — a  Dunker  preacher,  enlisted  in  the  lines." 

"  The  hour,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  looking  at  Luther  with  consider- 
ate brown  eyes  through  his  glasses,  "  is  the  test  of  every  true  con- 
science ;  and  that  you  broke  the  traditions  of  your  life,  to  lay  that 
life  down  for  your  country,  as  a  humble  soldier,  recommends  you  to 
me,  who  am  of  Quaker  and  of  peaceful  instincts,  too.  Go  about 
your  duties !  Come  freely  to  me,  and  be  my  friend,  amid  all  this 
falsehood  and  deception.  If  ever  your  scruples  against  war  return, 
tell  me  so,  and  you  shall  be  honorably  discharged  !  " 

The  marly,  nervous  diction  and  delicate  feeling,  smote  the  young 
man  dumb,  but  it  was  the  dumbness  of  worship.     In  the  next  min- 


384 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


ute  he  heard  the  same  Secretary  order  a  brigadier-general,  in  tones 
of  thunder,  to  quit  his  ofifice  and  the  city,  or  have  his  shoulder-straps 
torn  from  him  in  the  streets. 

From  that  moment  Luther  never  doubted  the  success  of  the 
government  armies,  nor  that  the  nation  would  emerge  from  the 
conflict  with  every  false  sentiment  and  sham  stamped  under  the 
Quakerly  Stanton's  feet. 

The  reoccupation  of  Virginia  awakened  young  Mr.  Beall  to  the 
truth  of  John  Brown's  prediction,  made  to  Lloyd  Quantrell  on  the 
mountain,  that  the  Great  Valley  would  be  the  inevitable  line  of  war, 
and  would  be  the  hanking  route,  to  alarm  the  Government  at  Wash- 
ington by  marching  to  its  rear.  Yet  both  sides  continued  to  regard 
Harper's  Ferry  as  the  key  of  every  campaign,  and,  like  the  Irish- 
man's recipe  to  make  a  cannon,  they  took  that  round  hole  and 
wrapped  it  about  with  brass. 

John  Beall,  who  had  recovered  from  his  wounds,  marched  down 
the  Valley  with  Stonewall  Jackson,  and  saw  the  handwriting  of  war 
upon  his  farm  and  county,  and  heard  the  stave  of  John  Brown's 
hymn  roared  in  the  church  where  he  was  vestryman.  He  resolved 
to  leave  Virginia,  and  settle  among  his  kinsmen  in  the  West. 

In  that  interval  of  grief  and  chagrin,  of  Highland  Scotch  and 
Indian  rage,  there  appeared  to  him  one  day  a  lovely  vision,  as  he 
strolled  by  the  old  tan-yard  at  Charlestown — it  was  the  remembrance 
of  Katy  Bosler's  great,  soft  eyes. 

"  This  war  has  leveled  all  distinctions,"  said  Beall,  who  was  a 
self-communer,  and  had  no  intimates  among  men.  "  I  will  marry 
that  girl,  and  take  her  to  Iowa." 

He  had  an  impetuous  brain,  and  that  evening  found  him  inquir- 
ing the  way  to  Bosler's  farm.  Katy  saw  him  come  with  joy,  hoping 
he  had  news  of  Lloyd. 

"  Are  you  engaged  to  Mr.  Quantrell,  Kate  ?  "  Beall  asked. 

"  Oh  no,  sir — not  engaged." 

Katy  remembered  her  secret,  and  told  the  truth. 

"  I  thought  not ;  for  Quantrell  is  an  honorable  young  fellow,  and 
he  was  very  attentive,  in  Richmond,  to  Miss  Nelly  Starr,  the  actress, 
who  is  quite  a  different  person.  Katy,  your  home  and  mine  are  in 
the  lines  of  war,  and  the  war  will  be  long,  and  battle  and  blood  will 
finally  drink  our  souls  in.  My  blood  has  been  shed  already,  and  I 
have  killed  my  enemies.     I  want  to  go  away  and  live  out  my  days, 


CRESCITE  ET  M  ULTI PLICA  MINI.  385 

and  escape  the  dark  temptations  hanging  over  me.     Will  you  go, 
too  ?  " 

Katy's  soul  was  full  of  woe,  and  she  had  not  heard  one  sentence 
between  the  first  and  the  last.  Nelly  Starr,  with  her  fervent  beauty, 
had  cast  her  arts  upon  Lloyd  and  made  him  false  to  his  wife  as  to 
his  country,  and  the  gentleman  at  her  side  had  asked,  "  Will  you 
go,  too  }  " 

"  I  musi  go,"  cried  Katy ;  "  I  can  not  stay  !  Oh,  fader  loves  me 
so,  it  preaks  my  heart !  Te  little  lame  man  comes  efery  night  to  my 
bed,  and  says,  '  I  want  your  soul,  Katy  ! '  Last  night  he  had  his 
hands  on  my  head  and  feet,  at  te  spring-house,  and  told  me  to  say, 
'  All  between  tese  hands  pelongs  to  de  divel ! '  I  tried  not  to  say  it, 
but  I  couldn't  help  it,  and  it  had  'most  come,  when  Hannah  Ritner 
come  riding  down  to  te  spring  and  shouted,  '  God !  God !  she  pe- 
longs to  God  ! '  " 

Katy  had  thrown  herself  upon  her  friend's  shoulder  in  terror  and 
confidence ;  and  he  caressed  her  kindly,  his  distant  and  reticent  face 
growing  studious  of  her  weakness. 

"  You  do  belong  to  God,  my  dear  child,  and  can  draw  me  to  His 
will.  The  day  is  at  hand  when  every  white  man  must  labor,  and 
will  need  a  wife  with  the  spirit  of  frugality  and  toil.  I  will  take  a 
mill  and  a  farm  in  Iowa,  and  lead  you  there  from  the  dangers  of 
your  native  valley,  and  you  will  be  my  wife." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  cried  Katy,  shaking  herself  loose  ;  "  I  did  not  unter- 
stant  you,  John  Beall.  Pefore  you  can  marry  a  Union  girl,  git  a 
Union  heart !  Then  all  te  troubles  you  make  in  your  mind  will  fade 
away,  love  will  come  easy,  and  friends  will  pe  eferywhere." 

"  Where  is  Ouantrell  ?  "  the  young  man  asked,  in  Virginia  hot- 
ness  that  his  condescension  had  been  so  sincerely  rejected.  "  Why 
can't  you  make  ^I'm  one  of  your  Union  men  .''  " 

"  He  is  in  te  rebel  army,  waiting  to  be  winnowed  with  te  good 
wheat,  I  pray !  If  we  nefer  meet,  heaven  is  all  union,  and  no  seces- 
sion there." 

Beall  looked  at  her  a  moment  with  pale  rage  and  wonder,  her 
rounder  figure  swelling  with  emotions  of  piety,  and  her  eyes  bright 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  the  martyr.  He  resumed  his  hopeless, 
pinched  expression,  saying : 

"  The  women,  too,  have  joined  John  Brown's  gang  !  " 

"  Why  don't  you  go  py  Lloyd  in  te  rebel  army  ?  "  asked  Katy. 
"  It  is  safer  for  you,  and  out  of  bad  temptations." 
17 


386 


KATY  OF  CATOCTJN. 


"  Because  I  have  not  the  spirit  of  discipline.  Because  my  mind 
is  infested  with  brooding  and  impatient  purposes.  I  want  revenge ; 
I  want  to  retaliate.  The  example  of  old  Brown  has  never  left  me, 
and  it  will  make  me  a  hero  or  a  fiend  !  " 

"  Say  '  Te  Words  ! '  cried  Katy.  "  Lloyd  said  '  Te  Words,'  and 
was  saved.  I'll  say  tern  to  you,  John  Beall,  and  wickedness  will  fly 
away ! " 

She  whispered  in  his  ear  the  names  in  the  Trinity. 

He  trembled  a  moment,  and  then  tossed  his  head  with  contempt. 

"  Poor  Dutch  superstition  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Farewell,  Katy  of 
Catoctin  !  " 

"  He's  drived  te  Holy  Spirit  away  !  "  sighed  Katy,  looking  after 
him  with  gentle  tears.     "  He's  lost !  " 


With  Luther's  sound  head  and  strong  hand  gone  from  the  farm, 
Jake  Bosler  was  like  one  without  his  wits.  Luther  in  soldier-clothes  ! 
Luther  in  the  government !  Luther  a  great  man  of  the  world  !  All 
Dunkerdom  was  full  of  visions  and  backsliding  ! 

Old  fellows  in  short  coats  would  come  out  of  meeting,  on  the 
green,  to  talk  about  it,  and  forget  the  subject  in  its  mightiness,  till 
they  would  disperse,  merely  saying,  "Well,  luss  mold  sae." 

The  blooming  Dunker  girls,  all  suffering  for  Luther's  absence, 
would  huddle  together  before  meeting  and  ask,  "  Him  ?  How }  " 
and  then  all  would  laugh  with  little  sallies  and  alarms,  "  He,  he, 
he  !  " 

Katy  would  come  up  to  these,  and  some  would  stare  at  her  and 
some  would  say,  "  How's  Lloyd  ?  Is  Lloyd  a  rebel  ?  "  Some  would 
also  whisper  and  have  decided  looks,  and  follow  her  to  the  very 
horizon  with  their  eyes. 

Katy  was  the  sincerest  of  Dunker  devotees.  Her  tears  might 
have  washed  her  feet ;  her  Lord's  supper  was  eaten  every  Sabbath  ; 
she  read  the  holy  book  to  find  her  wedding-ring,  but  nothing  could 
she  see  there  but  women's  sins,  sufferings,  and  tears. 

"  Oh,  where  is  te  brook  I  must  wade  down  to  find  it  ?  "  her 
frightened  soul  cried.  "  I'll  take  off  my  shoes  in  this  cold,  icy 
weather,  and  go  down  te  bed  of  efery  brook — only  tell  me  where  .'*  " 

Did  Katy  ever  think  the  brook  she  waded  was  made  by  her 
tears  ? 

As  Jake  Bosler  was  drawn  by  Luther  into  the  government  busi- 


CRESCITE  ET  MULTIPUCAMINI.  387 

ness— buying  and  fattening  steers,  selecting  mules  at  Baltimore  and 
searching  the  mountain  counties  for  horses — his  monetary  instincts 
aroused  again,  and  Katy  was  left  much  alone,  for  which  she  was 
very  grateful,  although  Gilmore's  men  and  Mosby's  spies,  and  long 
lines  of  white  deserters  and  fugitive  slaves,  traveled  northward  on 
the  mountains,  and  replaced  the  wild  beasts  of  old.  She  did  not 
fear  the  face  of  man,  but  only  the  face  of  woman.  When  woman 
goes  astray,  with  men  alone  she  finds  equality  and  refuge— though 
woman  should  be  kindest. 

Hugh  Fenwick  came  sometimes  to  see  Katy  from  Washington, 
where  he  was  at  present  a  government  clerk,  having  his  quarrels  now 
and  then  with  the  priests  and  conventual  people  ;  and,  as  for  his 
politics,  nobody  could  tell  what  it  was  from  day  to  day.  He  boarded 
with  secessionists  and  never  rebuked  them,  and  he  took  the  govern- 
ment oath.  Katy  could  no  more  understand  him  than  she  could  her 
dog  Albion,  which  was  often  left  alone  with  her  days  and  nights, 
and  seemed  to  have  a  human  soul,  though  a  disagreeable  one. 

When  she  or  any  other  person  was  happy,  as  after  a  Union  vic- 
tory, or  election,  or  at  baptism,  or  old  neighbors'  reconciliations,  this 
dog  grew  surly  and  unsympathetic,  and  would  dart  out  and  snap  at 
the  cat  or  bite  a  chicken ;  but  when  musketry  sometimes  sounded  in 
the  distant  hills,  or  forests  were  afire  upon  the  long  spines  of  the 
mountains,  or  a  quarrel  of  any  kind  arose,  Albion  was  like  a  gym- 
nastic smile,  leaping  and  pointing,  unctuous  and  sinister,  possessed 
of  the  devil,  some  said,  and  yet  at  such  times  affectionately  insinu- 
ating. 

When  Katy  sat  in  the  great  mystery  and  gloom  of  one  aban- 
doned by  love  and  confronting  heaven  and  death,  with  health  superb 
if  only  sympathy  and  honor  were  by  her  side,  but  ignorance  and 
secrecy  wrapping  her  around  as  thick  darkness,  and  in  her  house 
and  heart,  even  in  sleep,  the  knockings  and  movings  of  a  spirit 
abroad — this  dog  would  softly  creep  to  her  feet,  climb  upon  her  lap, 
and  lay  his  spotted  muzzle  against  her  cheek,  and  his  hazel-yellow 
eyes  would  burn  in  the  darkness  like  lamps  in  mines,  seeming  to 
say,  "You  are  lost,  and  I  fill  the  bridegroom's  place." 

He  never  let  her  disappear,  but  followed  her  everywhere.  At 
midnight  he  was  astir  if  she  was  looking  in  the  dark.  His  kid-brown 
nose  would  come  cold  against  her  hand  in  the  sighs  of  prayer  before 
dawn.  When  he  heard  John  Beall  say  that  Lloyd  loved  Nelly  Har- 
baugh,  he  fawned  upon  the  relator  like  an  heir-at-law.     He  hated 


388 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


the  doves  in  the  apple-tree,  and  often  pulled  Katy's  gown  to  go  and 
look  at  them,  and  see  him  strive  to  leap  to  their  nest  and  put  them 
in  distress. 

Katy  loved  these  doves,  though  they  reminded  her  of  Lloyd's 
killing  the  dove  upon  the  mountain,  and  receiving  the  great  old  ban- 
dit's rebuke.  She  sang  over  Job  Snowberger's  coo-roo  song  to  them, 
and  the  old  doves  knew  her  well,  and  left  her  in  the  fall  with  many 
soft  adieus,  taking  their  young  away.  When  they  were  gone,  Katy 
had  nothing  left  her  but  Albion,  and  the  mystic  guests  that  came 
unseen  like  the  wind  in  the  pigeon-cote  and  the  weasel  in  the  nest. 

It  was  nearly  Christmas  when  Hugh  Fenwick  paid  his  last  visit 
to  Bosler's  farm.  He  brought  sunshine  with  him  generally,  for  he 
was  only  clerical  in  his  affectations,  but  in  realities  was  healthy, 
blooming,  genial,  and  sympathetic.  The  church  was  his  fastidious 
conceit  and  passport  to  a  rarer  society  of  virtue  and  respect,  and 
Katy  had  tested  him  well  to  see  if  a  coarser  earth  was  covered  by 
his  piety,  but  found  only  abiding  reverence  for  herself,  with  certain 
peculiarities  of  the  moral  weakling  and  the  ecclesiastical  prig. 

He  prevaricated,  and  was  less  sincere  about  essentials  than 
forms  ;  had  a  conscience  which  he  could  quiet  by  formulas  and  pen- 
ance, believed  in  mild  acts  of  deceit  if  they  pointed  to  good  conclu- 
sions, and  approached  nothing  by  the  bold  right  line,  but  had  humor 
and  even  gayety,  and  often  just  and  humane  impulses. 

The  mountain  girl  felt  that  his  affection  for  her  was  stronger 
than  friendship,  and  based  upon  something  like  fear  of  her  repro- 
bation ;  pity,  also,  controlled  her  feelings,  in  that  this  man  had  been 
so  weak  before  her  ardent  and  compelling  lover  as  to  open  to  her 
the  door  of  happiness  and  anguish,  by  marr^-ing  her  with  anticipated 
authority  because  caught  in  the  meshes  of  his  own  boasting. 

Improbable  as  this  act  still  seemed  to  Katy,  like  a  dream  that 
must  yet  pass  away,  it  was  no  more  than  Cardinal  Wolsey's  pre- 
varication—old as  America's  discovery — by  which,  against  his  will, 
he  divorced  a  wife  and  remarried  a  king,  and  entrapped  himself  by 
moral  weakness  into  deeds  his  conscience  shrank  from. 

In  Fenwick  were  two  races  seldom  mixed— the  impulsive,  uncer- 
tain Irishman,  and  the  colder,  formulating  German  ;  and  these  hot 
and  cold  currents  gave  him  two  natures — the  social  and  the  ideal, 
the  effervescent  and  the  mystical.  Not  quite  legible  to  himself,  the 
estimate  Katy  Bosler  made  of  him  was  shrewd  up  to  the  limits  of 
her  inexperience  ;  no  other  man  was  so  comforting  to  her,  though 


CRESCITE  ET  MULTIPLICAMINI.  389 

she  feared  he  might  be  her  lover,  while  she  desired  the  better  nature 
in  his  friendship. 

The  dog  Albion  was  also  extravagant  in  his  friendship,  for  Fen- 
wick  always  brought  him  a  present,  like  a  ribbon  or  decoration  of 
some  kind,  with  which  the  aristocratic  animal  performed — taking  on 
a  sudden  frigidity,  being  consciously  indifferent  to  the  remaining  live 
creation,  stalking  in  the  front  of  the  house  to  bark  at  all  strangers ; 
and  the  more  he  was  decorated  the  more  he  was  inhospitable.  He 
licked  the  priest's  hand,  while  rejecting  the  bounteous  nature  in  Katy. 

"  O  Father  Hugh,"  the  girl  said,  at  last,  with  will  and  woe,  "am 
I  not  married  ?  Is  te  law  so  bad  I  can  not  get  te  wedding-ring? 
Maype  Lloyd  deceived  me,  too.  I  hear  he  was  making  love  to  Nelly 
in  Richmond.  Oh,  why  haf  I  not  had  letters  from  him  }  Where  can 
I  go  }     You  must  save  me  !  " 

"  Katy,  he  took  advantage  of  me,  too,  poor  fellow  !  I  had  boasted 
a  little,  for  then  I  expected  to  be  soon  a  priest ;  but  Lloyd  bullied 
me,  and  I  took  pity  on  you  both,  knowing  how  great  was  your  in- 
fatuation. Oh,  the  penance  I  have  done  !  And  the  worst  is  that 
Lloyd  has  not  been  faithful." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  a  false  friend ! "  cried  Katy,  her  eyes  fierce 
with  the  wisdom  in  despair.  "  Where  has  your  friendship  left  me, 
sir,  while  Christmas  is  pefore  me  ?  I  am  a  good  woman,  put  no 
wife.  And  now  you  accuse  Lloyd  !  If  you  are  te  devil,  I  will  hit 
you  with  Luter's  inkstand,  like  Friar  Luter,  in  te  Wartburg  !  " 

She  took  the  ink-bottle  up  from  the  eating-table,  and  the  semi- 
narist failed  to  cross  himself,  as  he  had  started  to  do ;  for  he  was 
afraid  of  this  woman — physically  afraid  ! 

The  dog  barked  at  Katy,  snarling  all  about  her  feet,  vicious  as  if 
she  had  ever  been  his  enemy  instead  of  his  only  friend  on  the  globe. 

The  impulse  was  too  mighty  in  Katy  not  to  give  her  misery 
vent,  and  she  turned  upon  the  lesser  spirit  of  evil : 

"  You  .'*  "  she  cried  to  the  dog.  "  Ah  !  it  was  you  who  p'inted 
me,  like  te  mountain  dove,  te  night  Lloyd  Quantrell  come." 

She  threw  the  ink-bottle  at  Albion  and  beat  him  with  the  broom, 
till,  splotched  with  black  and  sore  of  ribs,  the  creature  howled  and 
ran,  and  Fenwick  let  him  out  at  the  door. 

Pale  and  exhausted  with  the  spasm,  and  repenting  of  her  treat- 
ment of  a  guest,  Katy  relapsed  to  a  helpless  woman  when  silence 
had  given  Fenwick  courage  to  speak. 

"  You  are  sorry  you  are  Mr.  Quantrell's  wife  }  " 


3go  A^ATV  OF   CATOCTIN. 

" No,"  exclaimed  Katy,  on  her  remaining  breath  of  spirit.  "I 
won't  say  that,  if  he  deceifed  me.  If  he  has  gone  away  and  forgot 
me,  I  won't  say  that.  Te  priest  and  te  people,  te  church  and  te 
world,  may  p'int  at  me  like  that  p'inter-dog,  but  I  am  God's  child — 
and,  above  tem  all,  I  call  on  God  to  come,  and  come  quickly  !  " 

"  Katy — sister — I  have  not  been  your  confessor  in  vain.  I  am 
here  to  assist  and  save  you,  and  your  severity  is  not  of  yourself. 
Come  away !  You  shall  see  Lloyd  ;  you  shall  have  the  protection 
of  the  Church's  sheltering  arms  and  walls  in  Washington.  There 
are  conventual  places  under  our  control  open  to  the  wounded — 
yes,  to  the  betrayed." 

"  I  am  not  petrayed,"  cried  Katy ;  "  I  don't  believe  it.  This 
war  te  slaveholders  haf  got  up  against  te  Union  of  our  country 
has  petrayed  many  a  poor  man  out  of  home  and  life,  and  me  out 
of  a  wife's  name.     I  will  not  hide ;  I  will  stay  here  and  die  !  " 

She  sank  into  a  chair  and  felt  faint  and  swooning.  Fenwick's 
impulses  broke  down  his  timidity,  and  he  came  and  knelt  at  her 
feet  and  bathed  her  eyes  with  cool  water. 

"  I  must  be  firm,  my  child.  You  shall  be  made  happy,  and  I 
must  take  you  away.  Your  father  worships  you  ;  your  brother  is  in 
Washington.     I  will  send  for  Lloyd  to  come." 

The  dog  whined  softly  at  the  door ;  the  wind  blew,  and  snow 
came  down  the  chimney  upon  the  failing  wood-fire. 

"  Lloyd } "  sighed  Katy.  "  How  can  he  get  through  te 
lines  ?  " 

•'  Easily.  I  can  have  him  brought  across  the  Potomac,  passed 
into  Washington  as  one  of  our  priestly  refugees  from  the  South,  and 
made  your  fellow-prisoner  in  walls  of  the  faith  no  government  can 
enter." 

Katy  raised  her  head.  The  picture  of  Lloyd  with  her  so  soon, 
so  close,  so  long,  came  like  the  phantom  of  the  arisen  Lord  to 
Mary  Magdalen,  when  the  angel  said  :  '*  There  shall  ye  see  him  ;  lo, 
I  have  told  you  !  " 

"  I  have  a  carriage  here ;  the  night  will  be  cold,  but  our  robes 
are  buffalo  and  lamb's  wool." 

The  feet  of  his  horses  she  heard  on  the  frozen  ground. 

"  Decide,  Katy  !  Your  father  is  overdue.  Time  is  precious  as 
your  fame  in  this  valley  and  the  peace  of  this  honest  house.  You 
can  say  that  you  went  to  find  your  brother  in  Washington,  that 
Lloyd  is  there,  and  that  I  came  at  his  request  for  you." 


CRESCITE  ET  MULTIPLICAMINT. 


391 


She  stood  up  and  said  to  herself  in  simple  prayer,  "  Let  me 
think  of  eferypody  but  me  !  " 

The  nature  of  the  prayer  contains  the  answer,  and  this  was  in- 
stant as  the  glance  of  love  : 

"  Hugh  Fenwick  !  Lloyd's  fader  said  he  would  pe  a  villain  to  pe 
coming  through  te  lines,  like  a  spy.  I  won't  tempt  Lloyd  to  come. 
If  God  takes  his  life,  let  it  pe  where  my  brother  Luter's  life  is  en- 
listed—in te  honest  lines  of  battle  !  " 

As  the  neophyte  shrank  before  these  words,  the  chivalric  sense  of 
which  the  true  woman  perceived  as  if  she  had  been  a  military  law- 
giver, Katy  also  felt  admonitions  beyond  the  help  of  sentiment. 

She  fell  to  the  floor,  and  knew  no  more. 

"  I  must  exercise  my  discretion,"  Hugh  Fenwick  spoke,  bending 
nervously  ov^er  her.  "  Old  Jake,  her  father,  will  find  her  here  and 
go  crazy,  and  she  will  lose  the  brightness  of  her  soul,  that  is  to  me 
the  only  saint  I  worship.  I  will  carry  her  to  the  carriage  and  start 
away." 

He  had  lifted  her  tenderly  in  his  strong  arms  and  reached  the 
door. 

The  dog  outside  was  fighting  desperately  with  some  one,  and, 
as  Hugh  Fenwick  opened  the  door,  this  person  darted  in,  kicking 
Albion  off,  and  exclaiming  : 

"  Katy,  unshuldich  !  Unshicklick !  I'm  come,  on  one  of 
Shwester  Marcellus's  errands,  and  te  dog  won't  let  me  persewere  ! " 

The  breath  of  the  evening  revived  Katy's  senses.  She  slipped 
from  the  grasp  of  her  uncertain  friend,  and  spied  a  package  in  Job 
Snowberger's  hand,  which  she  seized  with  a  kiss  of  joy  upon  that 
bashful  monk's  least  obdurate  cheek. 

A  letter  in  the  old  German  patois  said  : 

"  Dear  Child  :  I  have  kept  you  in  mind,  but  the  public  enemy 
in  Richmond  put  me  in  jail  for  my  attention  to  our  prisoners,  and  I 
am  just  home,  at  dear  old  Snow  Hill  in  Pennsylvania.  I  send  you 
my  roan  riding-horse  to  come  instantly  to  me  ;  he  is  very  gentle  and 
sure-footed.  If  you  do  not  miss  the  road,  it  will  be  only  twenty-five 
miles  to  ride  to  Snow  Hill.  I  have  often  done  it  in  an  afternoon 
on  Charlie.  Brother  Philodulus  will  come  with  you,  but  he  is  a 
poor  guide  and  often  loses  the  roads.  Come  over  the  mountain, 
and  not  around  it !  I  will  show  you  where  to  wade  down  the  brook 
and  find  your  wedding-ring.  HANNAH   Ritner." 


392 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  God  !  God  !  "  shouted  Katy  ;  "  I  pelong  to  God  !  " 

She  sat  in  ecstasy  and  wrote  the  letter  to  Lloyd  Quantrell  we 
have  seen  him  receive,  and  bade  her  father,  in  writing,  also  be  of 
good  cheer,  and  gave  the  first  letter  to  Hugh  Fenwick,  to  forw-ard. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  insane  child  ?"  Fenwick  demanded. 

"  To  te  one  woman  in  te  world,  I  guess,  who  is  not  ashamed  of 
me." 

"  Goin'  to  persewere,"  explained  Job  Snowberger,  as  he  put  Katy 
on  one  of  the  horses  and  climbed  on  the  other  himself,  and  they 
dashed  northward  and  away. 

Hugh  Fenwick  stopped  superstitiously  in  the  road  and  muttered 
a  prayer  beside  his  carriage. 

"Is  it  a  devil  who  has  carried  her  from  me?"  he  concluded. 
"  I  will  recover  Saint  Kate  for  the  salvation  of  ray  soul,  or  be  a 
monk  and  leave  the  world  !  " 


CHAPTER   XXXVn. 

"  TICK-A-TOCK-A  !  " 

It  was  very  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  Job  Snowberger  explained 
that  he  had  once  lost  his  way  in  the  tangled  mountains,  and  they  must 
ride  hard  to  get  anywhere  before  midnight.  Katy  felt  the  incentive  of 
desperation  to  be  clear  of  her  own  neighborhood  and  escape  meeting 
her  father,  and  she  gave  free  rein  to  the  beautiful  horse,  whose  feet 
on  the  frozen  road  went  "  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a," 
in  that  carefully  taught  gait  easier  than  the  pacer's,  where  the  hind 
feet  seem  to  shuffle  and  the  front  feet  go  on,  like  the  shuttle  and  the 
eye  of  the  weaver  at  the  loom.     It  was  the  single-footed  rack — 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

The  gentle  gelding,  compactly  built,  and  his  back  steady  as  the 
seat  of  a  rocking-chair,  felt  the  double  instinct  of  a  lady's  necessity 
and  his  dear  mistress  awaiting  him  ;  and  the  gallantry  of  a  "  gentle- 
man of  the  old  school  "  rose  to  his  black  mane  and  free  head.  Beals- 
ville  was  passed,  and,  leaving  on  her  left  the  dear  road  over  which 
she  and  Lloyd  had  ridden  to  church,  she  skirried  up  the  creek's  side 
to  the  north — 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock  a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 


TICK- A-  TOCK-A  I 


393 


Ah  !  thought  Katy,  should  she  ever  again  have  Lloyd's  head 
upon  her  breast  and  see  his  tears  of  contrition  flow,  and  his  face 
among  the  disciples  eating  the  Lord's  feast? 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

"  The  Lord  sent  this  horse,"  Katy  thought ;  "  I  wish  I  had  my 
old  dog,  Fritz,  too,  so  steaty  and  strong." 

The  strawberry  roan  shied  and  lost  his  rack,  as  something 
growled  at  his  heels  and  flashed  on  before  like  a  spotted  and  bleached 
will-o'-the-wisp ;  and  then,  as  Katy  recognized  Albion  in  the  place 
she  had  hoped  for  Fritz,  the  racker's  black-striped  back  settled 
easily  down  again,  and  his  black  tail  streamed,  and  his  black  feet 
slid  over  the  ground — 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

The  snow  came  down  finer  and  faster  as  the  shades  of  evening 
deepened,  and  over  the  twinkling  lights  of  Wolfsville  Katy  looked 
toward  the  Black  Rock  on  the  mountain-top,  where  she  had  been  the 
queen  at  picnic-parties  before  the  coming  of  Lloyd  Quantrell  for  his 
doves.  How  happy  and  wistful  of  love  then  !  How  unhappy  and 
thornful  of  love's  fruition  and  poverty  now  !  How  uncertain  that  she 
would  return  and  have  that  simple  happiness  again  if  to  throw  away 
love's  power  and  dread  knowledge  ! 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

The  evergreen  cedars  kept  their  fresh  tints  in  the  snow,  but  na- 
ture in  general  seemed  dead.  The  woods  upon  South  Mountain 
seemed  bare  and  open,  save  where  the  firs  and  pines  stood  to- 
gether in  bunches,  like  the  last  of  old  men.  Some  crows,  hastening 
home  to  their  rock  nests,  cawed,  up  among  the  snow-flakes,  like  the 
poor  mountain  people  going  home  from  work  to  hungry  children. 
A  rabbit  ran  once  or  twice,  leaving  his  leap-marks  in  the  snow- 
sheet,  and  snow  birds  came  abroad  as  if  the  Lord's  white  table-cloth 
were  spread  over  the  world,  and  only  the  very  tiny  and  very  cold 
ones  were  bid  to  his  feast.  Job  Snowberger  suggested  that  they 
could  stop  all  night  in  Wolfsville  ;  but  Katy  cried  "  No  !  "  and  dashed 
across  the  creek,  and  on  the  steep  ascent  the  strawberry  roan  made 
bleak  music — 

"  Tick-a-tock  a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tocka  !  " 

Katy  had  barely  made  her  decision,  when  she  felt  the  lonely  dis- 
tance and  wild  region  it  implied,  with  night  and  winter  upon  the 
untraveled  mountains  where  they  were  wildest,  and  twelve  miles 
of  their  fastness,  at  least,  before  her,  and  the  snow  growing  deep. 


394 


KATY  OF  C A  TO  C  TIN. 


She  saw  the  parallel  ridges  pinching  the  valley  and  lifting  it  up, 
and  gnarled  and  naked  apple-trees  marked  the  few  homes  and  mea- 
ger farms.  Job  Snowberger  at  her  side,  riding  a  rougher  animal, 
sighed,  and  tried  to  keep  up  with  Katy,  and  his  many  groans  all 
took  the  articulated  sound  of  "  persewerin' !  "  The  night  came 
down  black,  with  snow-flakes  making  the  blackness  visible,  and  they 
saw  a  light  in  a  field  near  by. 

"  I  must  ask  te  way,"  said  Job,  "  or  we  may  freeze  to  death  on 
te  mountain." 

She  followed  him  into  a  kind  of  lane,  and  soon  there  arose  above 
their  eyelids  an  old  tumbling  house. 

"  Why,  Job,"  whispered  Katy,  "  tis  is  Nelly  Harbaugh's  teserted 
home ;  and  who  can  pe  in  it  }  " 

She  rode  up  to  the  window  and  looked  within,  while  Job  dis- 
mounted and  tried  the  door. 

Katy  saw  a  number  of  men  feeding  a  fire  upon  the  floor.  Some 
she  recognized  by  their  blue  and  gray  capes  and  coats  to  be  de- 
serters from  both  rebel  and  Union  armies.  They  were  vagrant, 
thievish  men  ;  and  some  were  sleeping,  some  quarreling,  some  gam- 
bling, while  other  persons  she  knew  as  dealers  in  contraband  things 
and  mountain  parasites  of  the  times  of  war — the  man  who  sold 
civilian  suits  of  clothes  to  deserters  and  bounty-jumpers,  the  un- 
licensed whisky-peddler,  the  army  horse-thief,  the  ruined  slave- 
catcher.  Above  them  all,  the  firelight  showed  Nelly  Harbaugh's 
pastings  of  actors  and  actresses  from  the  newspapers,  with  Laura 
Keene,  in  "  The  American  Cousin,"  largest  of  them  all. 

Suddenly  Katy  saw  Job  Snowberger  enter  this  cabin,  unaware  of 
its  contents,  and  ask  a  question. 

Before  his  mouth  was  well  open,  he  was  surrounded  and  forced 
to  the  floor,  and  his  pockets  searched.  He  shook  himself  loose,  and 
Katy  saw  him  glance  furtively  around  the  bare  walls  as  if  for  some 
window  or  weapon. 

"Unfershamed  (barefaced)!  UnshickUch  (improper)!"  Job 
shouted. 

The  pointer-dog  at  Katy's  feet  barked  loudly  in  the  night. 
Hearing  the  sound,  the  tatterdemalions  within  turned  their  heads 
from  Job  Snowberger,  and  rushed  out  to  see  what  else  had  come. 

Katy  had  just  an  instant  to  observe  the  action  of  Job  Snow- 
berger before  they  were  upon  her :  he  had  leaped  on  a  table  dis- 
ordered by  refuse  food,  whisky,  and  cards,  and  he  brought  from 


• '  TICK- A  -  TC  CK-A  /  "  395 

over  the  door,  where  he  knew  its  place  of  concealment,  the  old  gun 
of  the  sergeant,  deserter  of  the  army  and  of  his  child. 

The  thievish  gang  had  seized  Job's  horse,  and,  guided  by  the 
dog's  loud  information,  had  nearly  distinguished  Katy  in  the  dark, 
when  she,  with  self-resources  never  tried  before,  cried  loudly : 

*'  Fire  on  tem.  Union  men  !  " 

To  Katy's  astonishment  a  gun  responded,  and  a  blaze  of  light, 
and  the  agonizing  yelp  of  a  dog. 

"  We're  surrounded ! "  cried  the  cowards,  and  vanished  in  the 
snow-storm  down  the  mountain  gulleys. 

"I'm  a-persewerin',"  sighed  Job  Snowberger,  recovering  his 
horse  and  carrying  the  old  gun  along,  "but  I'm  backshlided,  too." 

"  How,  dear  Job  ?  "  cried  Katy,  riding  after  him. 

"  I've  made  war — and  I  reckon  my  soul's  lost,"  observed  the 
man  of  peace,  very  inconsistently  adding,  "  Hooray  !  Seech-reich  !  " 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  ! "  went  Charlie's  feet 
in  the  snow,  and  Albion  limped  after  them,  still  howling  fearfully, 

"Job,"  said  the  girl,  unable  to  see  him  in  the  dark,  though  he 
was  at  her  side,  "  I  guess  you're  not  very  wicked,  for  you've  fired 
that  load  all  into  our  dog." 

"  Hooray !  "  cried  Job  again,  intoxicated  with  his  personal  prow- 
ess ;  "  can't  you  love  me  some,  Katy,  for  savin'  of  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Job — only  keep  your  hands  to  yourself  and  don't  pe  a  fool 
this  awful  night !  Pray  for  me — I'm  a-growin'  blind,  and  can't  set 
my  horse  much  longer." 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a ! " — in  the  bare  places 
of  the  snow-drift  and  on  the  broken  stones. 

Albion,  really  wounded  by  the  old  flint-lock  of  earlier  wars,  de- 
faced by  writing-ink,  and  receiving  no  pity,  must  needs  go  on  or 
perish  now,  and  it  was  hard  traveling  for  him. 

"  Poor  dog !  "  called  Katy,  out  of  her  own  misery,  to  the  snarl- 
ing, squeaking  brute. 

He  snapped  at  Charlie's  heels,  and  received  a  side-tip  from  the 
shuttle  hoof  which  laid  him  fairly  on  his  back,  howling  to  all  the 
nations  for  benignant  inten'ention. 

"  Coom  on  !  "  cried  Philodulus,  chattering  with  the  cold  ;  "  te 
more  we  mind  dat  beast,  te  less  he  cares  for  us  ! " 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock  a  !  " 

The  wind  now  blew  on  the  high  staircase  of  the  valley,  and  the 
highest  rills  of  Catoctin  Creek  gurgled  away  behind  them.     As  the 


396 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


snow  ceased  to  fall,  black  and  wind-bellied  clouds  moved  overhead, 
giving  just  light  enough  to  note  solitary  peaks  or  knobs  in  the 
gullet  of  the  valley,  and  the  ear  was  smitten  by  the  crash  of  super- 
numerary trees  resisting  not  the  death-chill  of  old  age.  The  South 
Mountain  seemed  also  to  have  died  and  to  be  laid  in  the  valley,  that 
had  risen  to  its  stature ;  for  it  had  disappeared  in  the  west,  and  all 
around  them  was  a  sort  of  spongy  and  stony  glade,  in  which  the 
good  gelding,  wet  with  sweat,  still  made  a  sound  with  his  feet,  like 
the  last  American  slave  picking  on  his  old  banjo : 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

"  We're  'most  come  to  Foxville  and  te  hickle-te-picklety  roads," 
Job  Snowberger  said,  through  his  great  coat-collar ;  "  I  don't  know 
which  is  which,  but  I'm  persewerin'." 

A  charcoal  pit  of  ignited  logs  set  upright  in  a  circle  and  covered 
with  earth  appeared  now  in  the  roadway,  giving  a  little  warmth  and 
light,  but  no  person  could  be  seen,  although  Job  hallooed  loud ; 
and  he  noted  that  there  were  forks  of  the  road,  both  going  to  the 
north. 

"  Ich  cons  hardly  dii !  "  groaned  Job  ;  "  how  can  one  persewere 
when  he  comes  to  two  roads,  and  both  p'int  right?  " 

"Go  ofer  te  mountain  and  not  around  it,  Job.  te  letter  said." 

"  Te  right-hand  road  seems  straightest,"  Philodulus  sighed. 
"  Te  left-hand  road  may  take  us  back  agin,  on  down  te  mountain,  to 
Cavetown  and  Beaver  Creek." 

"  O  my  friend,  decide !  I  am  not  able  to  ride  much  furder ;  if 
I  git  off  my  horse,  I  nefer  can  get  up  agin." 

"  Katy,  stay  here  py  te  fire !  Te  war  I  was  in  to-night  has 
turned  my  wits.  I've  shipwracked  te  faith,  and  with  all  my  perse- 
werin'— imshuldich  / — I  love  you." 

His  voice  trembled,  and  his  bachelor  blush  was  felt  in  the 
dark. 

"Job,"  cried  Katy,  "if  I  was  aple,  I'd  git  off  tis  horse  and  slap 
you  !  Holt  that  gun  away  from  your  chin,  and  don't  pe  leanin'  on 
it ;  it  might  haf  loaded  itself." 

"  Katy,  stay  py  te  warm  fire;  I'll  guard  you  all  night  with  this 
wicked  musket,  and  gif  you  my  coat  to  lay  in.  We  don't  know  te 
way." 

"  Sir,"  Katy  cried,  between  modesty  and  despair,  "  I  dare  not 
wait  one  night,  one  hour !  Go  on,  some  way,  any  way — or  I  shall 
fall  in  te  snow  and  perish  ! " 


TICK-A-  TOCK-A  ! ' 


397 


"  Let  te  dog  decide,  then,"  Job  Snowberger  cried,  shouting  to 
the  dog  to  go  forward. 

The  dog  chose  to  go  to  the  right. 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

They  soon  heard  water  trickling,  and  found  themselves  following 
a  rill,  and  the  wind  began  to  lull,  and  the  sky  parted,  letting  some 
moonlight  through.  The  wood-paths  divided  again  near  a  mountain 
clearing  like  a  hermit's  farm,  which  lay  as  in  a  triangle  of  gaunt 
ridges,  and  showed  a  ruin  but  no  habitation,  and  the  dog  again 
went  to  the  right,  following  the  stream,  perhaps,  to  bathe  his  burns 
and  bruises ;  and  this  stream  was  so  near  the  track  that  in  its  over- 
flows it  had  covered  the  latter  with  stones,  like  a  road-mender,  or 
rather  road-destroyer,  showing,  by  the  widening  light,  a  dreary 
stretch  of  uncrushed  rock,  hard  sandstone,  and  other  primal  stones 
which  would  not  roll  round  in  the  washing  of  centuries,  but  re- 
mained hard  and  unshapen  like  a  savage  race.  Over  these  infinite 
stones  the  good  horse  picked  his  way  and  stumbled,  and  his  knees 
trembled. 

"  We  must  surely  pe  comin'  over  te  mountain  now,"  Katy 
thought. 

Of  this  broken  stone  there  seemed  miles,  and  yet  the  cold  brook 
just  beside  it  had  a  talk  to  itself,  as  if  it  were  gliding  comfortably 
onward  among  the  stunted  oaks. 

"  If  Charlie  could  only  wade  in  there,"  Katy  thought,  "  he 
wouldn't  bruise  me  so.  Oh,  I  am  sore  as  if  I  was  full  of  stones, 
and  every  step  shook  tem  !  Maype  tis  is  te  brook  I  am  to  find  te 
book  and  te  wedding-ring  in." 

There  stood  a  cabin  of  logs  near  the  road,  and  Job  shouted  for 
people,  but  only  brought  out  some  lean  fox-hounds,  Vi'hich  chased 
Albion  along  the  broken  stone,  and  their  yelp  filled  the  night.  Katy 
lost  the  stream  awhile ;  but  it  returned  soon  with  the  power  of  other 
afiduents,  and  began  to  enter  the  impressive  walls  of  unseen  mount- 
ains, making  themselves  felt  like  dungeon-walls  in  darkness.  There 
were  easier  declivities  in  the  road,  and  again  the  single- footed  racker 
made  a  sound  like  the  living  spirit  of  some  former  water-mill — 

"  Tick-atock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

"  O  Shwester  Kate  !  "  Job  Snowberger  exclaimed,  "  dis  love  tey 
talk  apout,  is  te  worst  of  all  te  Christian's  life.  Bruder  Martin  Luter 
Vv'as  so  persecuted  py  it  that  he  tried  to  drown  it  in  te  Rhenish 
wine,  and  te  drunker  he  got  te  more  he  was  peteviled,  till  he  had  to 


398  irATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

marry  a  nun.     Maype,  if  you  was  to  marry  me,  I  could  write  music 
like  Conrad  Beissel  and  Friar  Luter." 

Job  raised  his  voice  and  sang,  in  high,  piping  notes,  the  Christ- 
mas-eve hymn  of  Luther  : 

"  Give  heed,  my  heart,  lift  up  thine  eyes  ! 
Who  is  it  in  yon  manger  lies  ? 
Who  is  this  child  so  young  and  fair  ? 
The  blessed  Christ-child  Heth  there. 

"  O  Lord,  who  hast  created  all, 
How  hast  thou  made  thee  weak  and  small, 
That  thou  must  choose  thy  infant  bed 
Where  ass  and  ox  but  lately  fed  ? 

"  O  dearest  Jesus— Holy  Child  ! 
Make  thee  a  bed,  soft,  undefiled, 
Within  my  heart,  that  it  may  be 
A  quiet  chamber  kept  for  thee."  * 

Thus  the  legend  of  Asia  replaced  with  its  songs  the  owls  and 
katydids  of  the  American  forest.  Katy  listened  with  awe  and  con- 
solation. 

"  Happy  could  I  pe  to  lie  down  in  a  manger,  too.  Job,  and  rest 
my  bones ;  but  here  is  neither  ped  nor  stable ;  and  if  it  is  midnight, 
we  are  in  Christmas-eve  !  " 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  ! "' 

They  could  see  the  inclosing  mountains  now  raise  their  heads 
like  the  Wartburg  Castle,  where  Luther  composed  and  burned,  be- 
tween the  dual  poles  of  the  human  and  the  divine  passion.  Pulpits, 
lofty  and  cold  as  Calvin's,  on  the  steep  streets  of  Geneva,  those 
rock-shapes  seemed ;  or,  like  the  papal  tiara,  they  towered  above 
the  little  stream,  or  bishops'  caps  in  the  narrow  alleys  of  Rome. 
So  runs  the  rill  of  human  nature  through  the  ramparts  of  creeds ;  and 
travelers,  down  the  brook,  want  an  inn  more  than  heaven ;  and  if 
the  inn  is  full,  a  bed  in  the  stable. 

Shelter,  shelter !  how  much  is  it  of  joy ;  and  what  word  of  pain  is 
like  that  one  of  "  shelterless  "  !  Katy  wondered  if  the  infinite  millions 
spent  in  temples  and  churches  to  provide  homes  for  people  in  heaven, 
might  not  afford  this  world  a  bare  shelter,  and  straw  on  every  road, 
hke  the  birth-bed  of  Mary's  untimely-born  son  in  the  tavern-stall. 

*  Catherine  Winkworth's  translation. 


TICK-A-TOCK-A  ! ' 


399 


"  Tick  a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 
With  snowy  luster,  rocks  and  bare  woods  shone,  and  mountain- 
sides upheld  the  hemlocks,  and  in  the  damper  places  grew  long, 
open  groves  of  beech-trees,  as  on  the  bowlder-strewed  slopes  of  the 
German  mountains  of  Harz.  Cedars  clung  to  stones,  and  spread 
their  roots  around  them  like  a  hand  from  the  grave,  pulling  the 
tombstone  in.  The  little  pines  leaned  against  the  precipices,  starving 
rather  than  leap  down ;  the  little  oaks  roved  up  the  desolate  ravines, 
and  moonlight  shone  on  a  wood-chopper's  chips  and  gleaming  axe ; 
the  only  signs  of  animal  existence.  Nothing  moved— no  rabbit,  nor 
squirrel,  nor  bird  ;  and  the  only  sound  they  heard  was  of  the  foaming 
brook,  now  grown  to  a  fierce  torrent,  and  defying  the  frost  to  fasten 
it  more  with  silver  chains.  Piled  in  that  torrent,  like  maledictions 
from  the  overtopping  cliffs,  were  mighty  rocks  flung  down  and  stay- 
ing the  water  in  cascades— which  roared,  or  boomed,  or  tingled, 
according  to  the  resistance ;  and  beneath  them  were  hollow  basins 
in  the  stones  or  pools,  suspiciously  silent  after  so  much  conflict. 
Signs  of  coal  were  to  be  seen  in  the  ledges  where  the  road  had 
delved  its  way ;  and  down  the  slopes  the  horse,  with  yielding  knees, 
bore  Katy,  sometimes  giving  her  a  shock  that  seemed  to  bring  an 
echo,  and  to  make  her  cry  aloud,  till  poor  Job  Snow^berger,  himself 
nearly  dead  with  chafing  and  jolting,  would  cry,  pipingly,  "  O  Katy, 
perse  were ! " 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a !  " 
The  brook  was  so  long,  so  wild,  the  road  so  steep  and  unknown, 
that  Katy  was  sure  it  was  the  brook  she  was  to  wade  down  to  find 
her  wedding-ring,  and  at  every  circle  of  the  moonlight  on  the  path 
she  was  thrilled  with  the  thought  that  the  magic  hoop  of  gold  had 
been  reached. 

The  dog  had  become  confidential,  and  trotted  at  her  side,  and 
sometimes  the  shaggy  woods  and  precipices  made  a  deep,  impene- 
trable shade,  beyond  which  a  seeming  path  would  open  on  the 
torrent.  At  one  such  place  the  road  seemed  to  end,  and  a  fallen 
tree  appeared  to  have  been  felled  to  notify  the  travelers.  Job  called 
to  the  dog  to  go  ahead.  The  animal  was  soon  heard  yelping  m 
the  bottoms  to  their  left,  and  there  Job  Snowberger,  in  opaque 
darkness,  forced  his  faltering  horse,  and  Katy  followed.  The  limbs 
of  trees  struck  them,  and  thick  brush  galled  their  limbs,  but  still 
the  pointer-dog  barked  seductively,  as  if  to  say,  "  Hasten  and  find 
security ! " 


400  KATY  OF  CATOCTJN. 

They  followed  along,  and  there  soon  appeared  light,  as  from 
above,  upon  a  smooth  place  like  a  trodden  way,  and  in  the  light  the 
dog  was  seen  at  a  stand,  tail  out  and  muzzle  toward  them,  and  fore- 
leg raised. 

Job  Snowberger  pushed  along,  and  the  dog  bounded  before  him, 
and  was  next  seen  on  a  stone  amid  the  deep  roar  of  unseen  water — 
a  stone  with  lichens  spotting  it,  and  clay  upon  its  smooth,  large 
face.  Albion  barked  again,  and  again  he  came  to  a  "  point,"  as 
Katy  had  seen  him  do  so  often  when  congenial  mischief  was 
afoot. 

"  Stop,  Job  !     Te  dog  never  p'ints  fair." 

Job  pulled  up  suddenly — and  he  was  on  the  edge  of  a  chasm  that 
would  have  swallowed  him  up,  at  another  impulse  forward  of  his 
horse. 

Below  him  the  creek  had  made  its  way  beneath  the  bank,  leav- 
ing the  old  bed  dry  and  rock-strewed,  and  its  abyss  was  ragged 
with  sharp  stones  whetted  by  the  freshets  and  cataracts  which  had 
laid  them  bare. 

"  O  treacherous  hound  !  "  cried  Job  ;  "  and,  Katy,  he's  perse- 
werin'  yet." 

As  the  dog  stood  on  the  stone  beyond  the  chasm,  revealed  in 
the  streaming  light  through  the  tree-tops,  and  still  insidiously 
tempting  the  travelers  on,  something  seemed  hurled  at  it  out  of  a 
bow  or  catapult,  and  this  thing  skipped  right  up  the  opposite  bank 
like  a  flying  mass  of  rock  with  eyes  and  muscles  in  it. 

Both  horses  trembled,  and  seemed  to  swoon  down  upon  their 
bellies,  and  to  blow  terror  through  their  nostrils. 

The  opposite  steeps  and  thickets  cracked  and  shook  for  a  few 
instants,  as  if  with  convulsive  life. 

Then,  on  a  high  rock,  above  the  torrent  a  hundred  feet,  a  beast 
emerged  like  a  great  cat,  with  ears  turned  outward  and  lashing  tail, 
and  stripes  upon  its  sides.  It  bore  a  parcel  in  its  teeth,  and,  stand- 
ing upon  that,  ripped  the  object  with  a  jerk  of  its  black-shadowed 
and  shining  neck. 

The  horses  turned  and  rushed  back  into  the  woods,  and  re- 
gained the  road  over  the  trunk  of  the  fallen  tree,  and  bounded  away 
regardless  of  descent  or  obstacle  till,  under  Katy,  the  good  racker 
found  his  cultivated  gait  again  of — 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

"  Gracious  !  what  is  it.  Job  }  " 


TICK-A-  TOCK-A  ! ' 


401 


"  O  Shwester  Kate !  I  ain't  seen  one  on  te  South  Mountain 
for  years.  It  was  a  catamount,  a  painter,  and  he's  killed  and  eat  te 
dog !  I  reckon  he  had  prowled  te  bare  mountain  for  food  till  he 
was  tesperate." 

"  He's  killed  te  dog  that  p'inted  me,"  spoke  Katy,  shuddering ; 
"  but  it  was  Lloyd's  dog,  and  I  pity  him." 

Yes,  Albion  might  have  become  a  favorite  on  the  sea-coast,  and, 
as  an  exotic,  have  hved  several  years  of  luxury;  but  he  fell  a  victim 
of  the  American  interior,  whence  a  few  animals  of  the  provincial 
habit  and  spring  still  issue  forth. 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

The  single-footed  racker  soon  entered  a  region  with  signs  of  life 
and  improvement ;  some  remains  of  mills  and  mill-races  w^re  seen, 
and  finally  open  fields  and  barns,  and  at  last  a  town  stood  huddled 
in  the  sheen  of  moon  and  frost.  Their  horses  stopped  at  an  old 
stone  tavern  on  a  corner, 

"  Is  dis  town  Vaynesporo  ?  "  piped  Job  Snowberger,  to  a  man 
who  was  shutting  up  the  tavern  windows. 

"  Waynesboro  ?     No  ;  this  is  Mechanicstown." 

"  Oh,  unshicklich  !  Unshuldich  I — Katy,  we've  come  around  te 
mountain,  and  te  kloster  is  on  te  furder  side." 

"  I  reckon,"  said  the  landlord,  "  you've  come  down  Big  Hunting 
Creek.  It's  a  wonder  you  tidn't  lose  your  lives.  If  you'd  took  the 
same  road  the  other  way,  you'd  come  out  at  Smithsburg,  or  Cave- 
town,  and  been  in  the  Cumberland  Valley ;  but  now  you've  got  the 
mountains  to  cross  again,  and  you're  fourteen  miles,  the  shortest 
way,  to  Waynesboro." 

"  I  couldn't  help  it.  Te  dog  did  it.  I  was  a-persewerin',  Katy," 
Job  piped  in  tears, 

A  feeling  of  despair,  followed  by  a  resolution  of  the  highest 
energy,  seized  upon  Katy  Bosler,  Sending  Job  peremptorily  to  bed, 
Katy  took  the  landlord  aside  and  minutely  inquired  the  way  to  the 
Dunker  Nunnery  of  Snow  Hill. 

"The  easiest  way  is  to  go  to  Emmittsburg,  eight  mile  from  here, 
and  take  the  pike.  But  there  you're  no  nearer  Waynesboro  than 
from  here.  The  shortest  way  is  to  go  up  Owen's  Creek  to  Har- 
baugh's  Valley,  and  turn  over  the  South  Mountain  and  over  the 
short  mountain  beyond  it,  and  from  that  view  you  can  see  Waynes- 
boro standing  out  in  the  plain.  Snow  Hill  is  three  miles  north  of 
that." 


4o: 


A'ATV   OF  CATOCTIN. 


"I  want  my  horse  fed  pefore  daylight,"  whispered  Katy — "te 
strawperry  roan,  that  racks.  Please  let  that  man  sleep,  and  wake  me 
without  noise.     I'll  pay  you  now." 

After  a  night  of  strange,  deep,  yet  haunted  sleep,  Katy  was 
awakened  and  started  on  her  journey.  Another  creek  flowing  out 
of  the  mountain's  mane,  gave  access  to  pierce  the  mountain's  head, 
and  by  abyss  and  overhanging  height,  rock  and  cascade,  narrow 
pass  and  cave,  the  fainting  child  went  on,  crossed  the  South  Mount- 
ain, and  looked  back  on  nature  wildly  broken  and  uptilted,  and  she 
scaled  the  next  mountain's  notch  among  frozen  cascades  which  she 
felt  to  be  tributaries  of  the  Antietam. 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

From  the  fissure  she  descended  there  suddenly  stretched  under 
and  away,  like  a  golden  scarf,  the  zone  of  a  prodigious  valley  in 
snow  and  field,  stack  and  large  barn,  pike  and  town,  miles  on 
miles ;  soft  to  the  hollow  palm  of  heaven  as  the  young  head  of 
David,  in  its  silken  curls  and  rosy  blushes  to  the  transparent  hand 
of  the  prophet,  full  of  shining  oil. 

The  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west,  and  as  it  basked  upon  the  faint 
gray  line  of  the  North  Mountain,  thirty  miles  away,  it  seemed  to  KaXy, 
this  eve  of  Christmas-day,  to  be  the  star  of  Bethlehem  the  wise 
men  had  followed,  and  the  abundant  plain  to  be  the  gifts  they  had 
brought  the  new-bom  baby  in  the  stall — gold,  frankincense,  and 
myrrh. 

She  was  delirious  now,  and  only  knew  the  town  in  the  fore- 
ground of  the  great  valley  to  be  Waynesboro,  and  down  the  mount- 
ain tripped  her  gallant  roan — 

"Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !" 

Waynesboro  has  been  passed ;  she  knows  the  old  Dunker  meet- 
ing-house on  the  Little  Antietam,  with  its  ten  doors  and  windows  in 
the  low  story  of  stone  ;  she  is  in  the  noble  woods  above  the  lower  road 
in  the  valley,  and  sees  the  old  white  Dunker  mill ;  and  she  has  fallen 
from  her  horse  to  the  earth  at  the  monastery  door  and  read  the 
notice  posted  there : 

"  By  order  of  the  trustees  of  the  Snow  Hill  Society,  the  under- 
signed do  hereby  notify  the  loafer  or  vagrant  not  to  call  for  lodg- 
ing or  otherwise  annoy  the  people,  as  the  law  will  be  used."  * 

The  fainting  soul  applied  the  warning  to  herself:  she  passed 
through  the  long,  narrow  house  by  an  open  hall,  passed  to  the  rear 

*  The  author  copied  this  from  the  door  of  Snow  Hill  Dunker  Nunnery. 


• '  TICK-A-  TOCK-A  !  "  403 

and  saw  no  one,  and  entered  the  little  dairy  among-  the  shining  pans 
and  tins. 

In  the  water  seemed  a  circle  of  silver  or  gold  mystically  rip- 
pled. 

"  Te  ring  !  "  sighed  Katy,  and  sank  upon  the  cold  floor. 


When  she  could  see,  or  recollect,  she  was  in  bed  and  very  weak, 
yet  somehow  happy.  She  heard  singing  of  a  queer,  shrill  kind,  and 
looked  upon  something  that  shone  upon  her  finger.  What  could  it 
be  that  had  slid,  as  if  from  heaven,  upon  her  slender  hand .'' 

"  Dear,"  spoke  a  voice  heavy  with  music  and  tenderness,  like  the 
bass  of  Lloyd  Quantrell  singing,  "  you  have  found  your  wedding- 
ring." 

Hannah  Ritner  was  standing  by  the  bed,  as  well  as  Abel  Quan- 
trell, both  looking  at  her  with  interest  gracious  and  mutual. 

Katy  looked  again  at  the  dear-bought  ring,  and  saw  that  Han- 
nah had  nothing  like  it  upon  her  hand. 

"  Won't  you  give  her  one.?  "  Katy  whispered  to  Abel  Quantrell. 
"  It  is  so  comforting!     It  makes  me  feel  that  Lloyd  is  mine." 

"  Hannah,"  said  Abel  Quantrell,  "  we  always  were  in  love  :  cube 
it !  Love,  multiplied  by  offspring,  and  once  again  by  opportunity, 
make  the  three  times  the  base.  Take  the  child's  ring,  and  I  will 
put  it  on  your  hand  and  call  you  'wife.'  " 

"  No,  master.  The  sacrifice  shall  be  complete  :  j-our  younger  son 
by  this  marriage  would  suffer  in  his  careful  sense  of  honor.  Ozir 
son  has  become  nature's  own,  and  does  not  need  that  we  should 
wear  a  ring." 

"  Sho  !  this  child  is  not  married. — Are  you,  Kate  ?  " 

Katy  flushed  even  in  her  weakness,  but,  remembering  the  prom- 
ise of  secrecy  made  to  her  lover,  she  took  the  ring  from  her  hand 
and  gave  it  to  Hannah  Ritner. 

"  I  come  a  good  ways  to  git  it,  teacher,"  she  said,  "but  maype 
it  pelongs  to  you.     Oh,  I  feel  so  happy.     What  is  it  }  " 

"This,"  said  Hannah  Ritner,  holding  up  a  little  sleeping  babe 
which  she  drew  from  Katy's  bed.  "  Here  is  Saint  Christmas,  born 
in  the  dairy  of  them  who  never  marry. — ^Take  the  child,  master,  and 
look  at  it  awhile— your  second  grandchild — while  I  ride  for  the  doc- 
tor ! " 

As  the  old  man  looked  at  himself  in  the  third  generation,  and 


404  KATY  OF  CA  roc  TIN. 

Katy  wondered  what  it  all  could  mean,  they  heard  the  single-footed 
racker  go  out  the  lane  : 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  ticka-tock-a,  tick  a-tock-a!  " 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

PURITAN,   JESUIT,   AND    GERMAN. 

Snow  Hill  was  a  remnant ;  once  a  wilderness  cloister,  or  so- 
ciety, which  had  possessed  bright -eyed  converts  and  intellectual 
piety ;  but  with  beauty  and  youth  intellect  had  also  died  here,  and 
the  old  printing -apparatus  and  printed  books,  the  natural  music 
and  mechanical  craft,  traces  of  which  still  continued,  only  empha- 
sized the  dullness  and  strained  devotions  of  a  fragment,  which  had 
property  enough  to  make  internal  contentions,  and  where  Job  Snovv- 
berger  had  till  now  been  the  beau  and  baby. 

Katy's  baby  was  the  first  convert  Snow  Hill  had  made  in  many 
a  year,  and  Job's  "  nose  was  out  of  joint,"  as  the  saying  goes. 

He  came  half-way  in  the  door  to  see  the  baby,  got  a  glimpse  of 
its  palpitating  head,  and  went  off  into  the  mill  to  cry  and  to  blush. 
Had  Job  been  the  sole  witness  of  baby's  advent  into  this  world,  he 
must  needs  have  left  Katy  at  the  road-side  and  run  away.  The  old 
belles  of  the  nunnery  looked  into  the  mill  and  made  faces  at  him, 
saying,  "  Dtumnkitp,"  or  dunce,  and  executing  little  waltzes  and 
jigs  quite  novel  to  the  holy  life. 

Some  of  these  silly  virgins  peeped  through  the  crack  of  Katy's 
door,  to  see  the  young  mother  and  babe  on  Christmas-day,  and  one 
walked  in,  looked  at  the  bed  a  moment,  and  said  "  Kintf"  meaning 
"  brat,"  and  turned  up  her  nose  and  seemed  to  blow  disgust  through 
her  nostrils  with  her  eyes  ;  but  all  that  afternoon  this  woman  scoured 
the  tins  in  the  dairy  till  they  were  bright  enough  to  look  into,  and 
show  her  reflected,  unexpressive  face,  the  wick  of  whose  experience 
had  never  been  trimmed  and  lighted,  so  that,  in  the  darkness  from 
it,  the  bridegroom  had  gone  past. 

And  that  night,  when  all  were  gone  to  bed,  this  queer,  round- 
faced,  sour-looking  woman  of  forty  or  fifty  years,  crawled  up  the 
stairs  and  into  Katy's  room,  and  reached  beneath  the  quilts  to  where 
the  baby  lay,  and,  taking  it  tenderly  forth,  put  it  against  her  breast, 


PURITAN,  JESUIT,    AND   GERMAN.  405 

and  saying,  "  Bubbelly,  bubbelly,  labe  goot,"  or  '-baby,  by-by,"  burst 
into  tears. 

Katy  looked  up  in  wonder,  and  reached  for  her  child.  The 
woman  turned  from  her  in  a  kind  of  quarrelsome  pout,  sniffed 
again,  and  stole  away.    . 

"  Hannah,"  said  Katy,  after  she  had  rested  some  days  and  grown 
strong,  "  why  is  love  so  natural  and  tangerous  ?  " 

"  My  child,  there  came  into  this  world  a  stranger  to  its  nature 
called  Pride,  and  began  to  whisper  to  people  till  they  elected  two 
evil  spirits  to  watch  them,  called  Scandal  and  Appearances.  Since 
then,  no  baby  has  been  like  the  young  of  other  animal  life  around 
it,  where  song  and  gamboling,  innocent  delight  and  no  evil-think- 
ing, make  nature  unceasing  Christmas,  and  every  opening  bud,  or 
egg,  or  infant  eyelid,  a  redeemmg  spirit.  Man  only,  looks  beyond 
life  both  ways,  before  and  hereafter,  for  the  portion  all  things,  be- 
sides, find  in  living.  '  How  came  you  into  the  world  ?  Where  will 
you  go  after  the  world  .^ '  These  are  the  questions  which  man 
asks  alone.  The  rest  of  nature  sings  and  loves,  and  holds  to  the  life 
that  is." 

"  No,  Mootter  Hannah  ;  else  why  is  baby-life  ?  " 

"  Life  aspires  to  life.  Death  itself,  left  alone,  rejoices  in  the 
seed  that  is  dropped  into  its  decay,  that  it  may  sprout  and  bloom. 
To  Nature,  the  triumphs  of  intellect  and  society  are  nothing,  my 
child.  What  are  all  the  vanished  empires,  the  social  systems,  the- 
ology, science,  literature,  and  conquest,  to  the  subtle  mechanism  of 
your  little  babe,  which  eats  and  sleeps  and  dreams,  which  blesses 
you  and  drives  down  the  dark  stream  of  time  the  mirror  and  spirit 
of  ourselves  ?  The  toil  of  Shakespeare's  head  is  to  Nature  lost,  but 
a  babe,  even  of  Hagar,  the  desert  animals  will  protect.  Seed  is  the 
only  end  of  Nature,  and  the  earth  is  still  its  garden.  God  said  to 
Pride,  '  I  will  put  enmity  between  thy  seed  and  woman's  seed.' " 

"  O  teacher,  how  can  I  tell  people  that  this  is  my  baby  and  I 
haf  no  wedding-ring  ?     Must  I  pe  wicked  ?  " 

"  To  Pride  you  may  be,  my  child,  but  not  to  Nature.  Our  sins 
were  forgiven  by  the  blessed  and  unfathered  Master,  in  the  great 
court  of  the  Pharisees,  when  he  wrote  upon  the  ground  with  his 
finger  in  the  dust  and  said,  '  Go  ;  sin  no  more.'  " 

"  Our  sins.     Have  you  sinned,  too,  fortune-teller  ?  " 

Hannah  Ritner  looked  up  and  saw  Katy's  dark  eyes  shine  upon 
her  pale,  white  face. 


4o6  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  I  have  had  a  lover  and  a  son,"  said  the  seer. 

"  Was  Lloyd's  father  your  lover  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

As  the  dark  woman  faintly  blushed,  Katy  leaned  over  and  kissed 
her  and  said  : 

"  Then,  Hannah,  you're  my  mother." 

"  I  can  be  your  step-mother,  my  dear  child,  and  I  have  tried  to 
be.  From  the  day  Lloyd  brought  you  to  my  cabin  I  have  taken  a 
mother's  care  of  you  both.  But  my  son  is  older  than  Lloyd ; 
Lloyd's  mother  wore  the  wedding-ring,  and  this  babe  has  society's 
protection,  while  mine — " 

"  Why,"  cried  Katy,  "  Senator  Pittson  must  pe  your  son  ?  " 

"  My  son,"  spoke  Hannah  Ritner,  proudly,  "  has  the  protection 
of  the  angel  which  said,  '  Thy  son  will  be  a  wild  man,  and  he  shall 
dwell  in  the  presence  of  all  his  brethren.'  *  He  is  in  the  councils 
of  his  country;  Nature  has  never  marked  him  with  his  Egjptian 
mother's  shame,  but  in  the  bright  blood  of  the  passover,  and  he  does 
not  fear  ! " 

Katy  listened  with  astonishment  at  the  secrets  of  a  society  she 
had  esteemed  far  above  her. 

"  I  told  you,  my  child,  that  you  should  find  your  ring  by  the 
book.  Let  me  open  a  page  of  the  beautiful  book  of  human  nature 
that  is  printed  in  the  rose-leaves  of  my  heart  !  I  was  a  child  like 
you,  a  woman  when  scarce  in  my  teens,  and  inspiring  love  in  the 
master  at  whose  feet  I  was  his  pupil.  He  was  strong  and  weak  as 
Samson  of  old.  I  pulled  his  justice  and  resistance  down,  but  never 
sheared  his  strength  away.  I  sent  him  on  his  course,  and  let  him 
marry  and  increase,  lest  the  humble  life  he  would  lead  with  me 
might  rob  his  country  of  his  services." 

"  Would  he  marry  you,  Mootter  Hannah  }  " 

"  I  would  not  let  him  make  the  sacrifice.  I  was  poor,  of  influ- 
ential connections,  but  romantic  and  independent  like  my  grand- 
child, Light.  When  Abel  Ouantrell  loved  me,  as  I  knew,  by  the 
intuition  which  makes  me  read  people's  fortunes,  I  saw  his  solitude 
and  hunger  of  heart  for  my  sympathy  and  companionship,  and  I 
knew  his  poor  mother  and  her  large  brood  were  living  on  his  pit- 
tance in  their  distant  and  rocky  New  England  State.  While  our 
Pennsylvania  lawyers  persecuted  him  as  a  stranger,  I  felt  the  daring 
compass  of  his  mind,  and  saw  his  infirmities — lame,  penniless,  ten- 
*  Genesis  xvi,  12. 


PURITAN,  JESUIT,    AND   GERMAN.  ^qj 

der,  and  ambitious  !  I  gave  his  heart  rest,  and  would  not  add  my 
burden  to  his  back,  nor  let  the  fatherhood  of  his  boy  rest  on  his 
reputation.  Men  have  often  been  unselfish  enough  to  refuse  a 
woman's  hand  lest  she  might  be  dragged  to  a  lower  sphere  by  them. 
I  found  the  compensation  of  my  sacrifice  in  an  older  friend — one  I 
had  refused — who  took  my  son  to  the  West,  gave  him  his  name, 
protected  his  secret,  and  gave  him  education.  That  true  republic, 
where  neither  ancestral  merits  nor  sins  affect  a  man's  deserts,  sent 
Edgar  to  the  Senate  at  Washington." 

"  Mootter  Hannah,  are  you  happy  .-* " 

"  My  child,  who  is  ?  I  have  my  cares  ;  for  woman  is  still  a  social 
animal,  and  sensitive  to  the  criticisms  of  her  own  sex.  My  master 
was  not  as  true  as  I  have  been — he  married." 

Katy  kissed  her  friend  upon  her  great,  rich,  upturned  eyes. 

"  Forgive  him  even  for  that  !  "  the  young  mother  said,  "  That  is 
why  Lloyd  lived  to  come  to  me." 

"  My  simple  dove,  I  saw  in  your  lover's  face  the  lineaments  of  his 
father,  and  told  your  fate  as  it  has  come — we  are  both  deserted  ! " 

"  Oh,"  cried  Katy,  "  it  is  te  war,  not  Lloyd  ! " 

"  Is  the  cause  Lloyd  fights  for,  against  his  strong  father's  will, 
holy  enough  to  justify  the  son's  selfish  anticipation  of  pleasure  in 
your  young  life  and  soul  }  He  could  not  wait,  but  let  you  wait  and 
suffer.  His  father  yielded,  too,  when  the  temptations  of  material  life 
came  to  him — a  lady  of  beauty,  gentleness,  and  wealth,  and  family 
influence  in  politics.  I  do  not  murmur  that  he  forgot  me,  for  I  had 
exacted  no  terms  in  the  almost  maternal  passion  I  felt  for  his  dis- 
tress ;  but  he  forgot  his  son,  and  his  son  has  a  daughter,  who  looks 
into  my  eyes  and  rejoices  in  her  noble  paternity,  while  my  step-son 
strikes  his  own  father  to  the  heart  as  he  reflects  upon  i)iy  child  ! " 

Katy  could  not  understand  all  this  refinement  of  confusions,  but 
she  listened  on : 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Hannah  Ritner,  "  there  is  a  taint  of  self  and  gain- 
seeking  in  these  Yankees,  with  all  their  philanthropy  and  idealism  : 
Franklin  himself  was  voluptuous  and  politic,  though  he  loved  knowl- 
edge and  abstract  justice.  Look  at  the  brother  of  Abel  Ouantrell, 
following  him  to  Marjdand,  and  setting  up  a  slave-pen  to  earn 
money  !  Does  Abel  wonder  that  his  son,  Lloyd,  grows  up  without 
domestic  reverence,  is  predatory  in  love  and  violence,  and  strikes 
his  country  in  the  face  ?  Give  me,  after  all,  our  sweet,  unselfish, 
and  commonplace  life  and  motive  of  the  Middle  States :  we  profess 


4o8 


KATY   OF   CATOCTIN 


less,  we  are  slower  in  public  spirit,  the  outward  deifying  of  morality 
we  are  not  skillful  at  doing ;  we  do  not  hate  systems  and  people 
from  far  off,  like  the  Jews  of  old,  sparing  neither  Philistine  nor 
Amalekite ;  here  persecution  never  went  beyond  gossip  and  back- 
biting, while  yonder  it  banished,  hanged,  and  whipped." 

"  Hannah,  ain't  you  an  apolitionist  ?  " 

"  Yes :  I  gave  my  enthusiasm  when  I  gave  my  all,  to  the  proud, 
obdurate  man  whose  self-love  never  has  conquered  his  indignations. 
I  recognize  his  righteous  leadership  as  Miriam,  the  sister  of  Moses, 
prophesied  and  danced  to  his  law.  The  great  contest  with  slavery 
I  helped  to  bring  about :  John  Brown  received  from  me  shelter  and 
direction  where  to  strike  the  vital  spot— so  close  to  the  free  States 
that  Virginia  and  her  slaveholding  posterity  in  the  West  must 
needs  fall  within  the  seam  of  war,  and  slavery  everywhere  meet  a 
common  doom.  I  must  now  cherish  the  soldiery  of  our  cause,  and 
keep  watch  over  the  new  captain  of  our  hosts,  the  President  at 
Washington.  He  hesitates  between  mercy  and  the  old  statutory 
gods.  He  must  come  to  the  nature  of  John  Brown,  and  strike  the 
dragon  at  the  vital  point :  slavery — it  must  fall !  " 

Carried  away  by  impulses  powerful  as  those  may  have  been 
which  gave  her  love's  reckless  impulsion,  Hannah  Ritner  arose, 
seeing  not  Katy  nor  anything  except  the  lightning-play  in  her 
stormy  soul,  and  she  planted  her  feet  as  upon  remembered  heights, 
and  looked  away,  yet  inward,  as  if  down  at  chasms  where  her  life 
had  been  banished,  and  still  remained  in  lonely  entanglement  with 
the  lines  of  imperial  movement.  Her  nose  was  long  and  hollow, 
like  a  bow  which  shot  impressions  from  without  into  her  brain. 

"  I  believe  slavery  will  fall  in  these  mountains  ;  that  its  grave  is 
by  the  Potomac,  and  that  the  echoes  of  its  death  will  die  along  the 
South  Mountain  side.  The  soul  of  my  friend  awaits  the  reverbera- 
tion. Yes,  he  awaits  companionship,  and  I  hear  the  sound  of  its 
feet!  Who  comes,  so  joyfully,  with  the  whistle  of  victory,  and 
careless  as  the  happy  schoolboy's  mind  on  Friday  afternoon  ? 
Who  comes  at  holiday's  brink  and  bears  the  sheaves  of  harvest  and 
does  not  see  the  hunter's  trap  ?  Oh,  linger,  linger,  gentle  friend, 
for  the  tyrant  hides  in  wait,  his  expiring  mortality  concentered  in 
one  blow !  It  has  fallen  :  I  see  him  reel  across  the  open  grave,  and 
the  Emancipator  is  caught  up  by  the  Pioneer — Death  !  Death  !  but 
Victory ! " 

As  Hannah  Ritner  sank  down  by  Katy's  bed,  a  gun  went  off 


PURITAN,  JESUIT,    AND   GERMAN.  409 

directly  beneath  the  window  of  the  room,  and  was  followed  by  a 
piping  cry  of — 

"  Persewerin' !     Wictory  and  te  heilich  life  !  " 

It  was  soon  reported  that  Job  Snowberger  had  been  fooling 
with  the  old  gun  he  found  in  Harbaugh's  cabin,  and  had  shot  him- 
self, painfully,  but  probably  not  fatally. 

All  sorts  of  tales  were  told  about  Job's  accident.  Some  said 
that  he  had  become  vainglorious  since  he  had  fired  on  the  rene- 
gades at  Harbaugh's,  and  brought  Katy  safely  across  the  mount- 
ains, and  that  he  had  taken  to  drilling  and  marching,  and  had 
finally  shot  himself  to  experience  the  feelings  of  the  wounded. 

Others  said  he  had  lost  his  wits  trying  to  understand  the  mys- 
tery of  Katy's  baby,  and  had  some  way  conceived  himself  to  be  the 
undiscovered  guilty  party. 

Others  told  a  queer  story  about  Job  being  desperately  in  love 
with  Katy,  and  tortured  between  his  affections  and  his  vow  of 
monkish  celibacy,  and  that  he  had  resolved  to  persevere  in  the  holy 
life  if  he  had  to  commit  suicide. 

Whatever  the  mystery  of  his  act,  Job  was  a  changed  man  when 
Katy  came  down  from  her  room  after  some  days,  and  offered  to  at- 
tend his  bed  and  return  his  kindness  to  her. 

He  was  now  completely  indifferent  to  her  charms  and  coquetries, 
and  read  the  great  book  called  "  Der  blutige  Schau-Platz,"  or  "  The 
Baptist  Martyr's  Looking-Glass,"  which  his  father  had  set  up  in  type 
at  Ephrata,  and  he  composed  bits  of  music  under  the  pages  of  Con- 
rad Beissel's  hymns  in  the  "  Turtle-Doves'  "  collection  ;  and  toward 
spring  got  about,  and  remained  silent,  pious,  and  a  little  sour  till  the 
end  of  his  life. 

Some  of  the  bad  boys  used  to  call  names  at  Job  over  the  fence, 
such  as  "  matdle,"  and  " gowl,"  and  "  asle"  ;  but  he  was  deaf  to 
their  tantalizations,  and  still  the  warrior  spirit  revived  sometimes  in 
him,  as  in  Narses  and  other  generals  of  the  past ;  and  the  next  fall, 
at  the  love-feast  of  Snow  Hill,  when  the  Seventh-day  Baptists  were 
imposed  upon  by  the  thousands  of  disorderly  spectators.  Job,  to  use 
the  neighborhood  saying,  "  whipped  his  weight  in  wild  cats,"  to  the 
battle-cries  of  "  persewerin',"  and  "  te  heilich  life." 

Relieved  of  Job's  attention,  Katy  had  no  other  male  friend  than 

Hugh  Fenwick,  who  came  across  from  Gettysburg  to  find  her,  and 

a  council  was  held  as  to  the  attitude  Katy  should  assume.     The 

novitiate  did  all  the  advising.     Katy  was  to  await  a  time  when  her 

iS 


4IO 


A'ATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


lover  could  see  her  and  explain  himself,  and  meantime  was  to  apply 
her  mind  to  The  Book,  or,  as  Hannah  Ritner  said  : 

"  My  darling,  the  brook  you  are  to  wade  down  to  find  your  wed- 
ding-ring is  your  tears  of  penance  and  passion  ;  the  book  you  are  to 
use  for  direction  may  be  the  Holy  Scriptures,  or  it  may  be  educa- 
tion. Seek  which  of  these — and  both  may  be  needed  to  satisfy 
you — will  fill  up  the  uncertain  and  contending  years  till  the  prodigal 
lover  finds  his  way  back  to  his  father's  door." 

"  Hugh,"  asked  Katy,  "  maype  you  had  te  right  to  marry 
me  }  " 

"  Katy,  I  have  looked  it  carefully  over.  By  the  law  of  1777  no 
person  can  perform  the  marriage  rite  but  established  or  dissenting 
ministers,  or  Romish  priests  '  appointed  or  ordained,'  and  only  after 
three  times  publishing  the  names  in  a  meeting-house  of  the  bride's 
own  county.  The  recent  law  of  marriage  is  more  rigorous  yet : 
'  No  persons  in  Mar}dand  shall  marry  without  a  license  and  triple 
publication,  nor  except  by  some  minister  of  the  gospel  ordained  ac- 
cording to  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  his  or  her  church.'  None 
of  these  conditions  are  answered  in  your  case,  and  clandestine  mar- 
riage is  forbidden  by  Rome  itself." 

Hannah  Ritner  brushed  back  her  long  locks  of  black  and  silver, 
and  looked  the  speaker  through  and  through. 

"  I  am  baffled  in  your  character,"  she  said.  "  Do  you  understand 
it  yourself  .-*  " 

"  No." 

"  It  may  be  like  the  kitten's  marks  in  the  snow,  gone  over  and 
over  in  her  puerile  play,  till  they  are  without  clew  or  even  form.  Yet 
you  have  had  some  purpose  with  this  girl.  Why  did  you  marry 
her  to  Mr.  Quantrell  ?  Why  do  you  discourage  her  now,  and  see 
your  duty  as  you  disobeyed  it  ?  Why  are  you  here  again,  after  your 
act  has  driven  her  from  home  and  made  her  a  mother  ?  " 

Fenvvick  could  not  withdraw  his  eyes  from  her,  though  his  soul 
was  seeking  to  slide  away,  like  a  man  from  his  own  deepening 
shadow. 

"  Answer !  "  said  Hannah  Ritner.  "  Was  it  because  you  loved 
her?" 

"  Yes.  I  saw  her  suffering.  Rather  than  see  her  suffer,  I  mar- 
ried her  to  another.  Everything  at  that  moment  seemed  excusable 
to  me,  and  the  reparation  easy.  I  thought  my  superiors  would  give 
me  indulgence  and  confirm  my  presumption.     They  dare  not  do  it ; 


rURITAN,  JESUIT,    AND    GERMAN.  411 

and  I  am  now  in  secular  occupation,  fearing  the  legal  and  eternal 
consequences  of  my  sacrilege." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Hannah  Ritner,  "  how  many  a  man  mistakes  his 
cowardice  for  religion  and  evidence  of  his  fitness  to  be  a  priest ! — 
Katy,  can  your  simple  soul  understand  why  I  will  not  solicit  a  cere- 
mony to  make  love  and  constancy  more  exalted,  when  it  must  come 
from  a  frail  creature  like  this  man  ?  Yet  I  think  he  is  no  villain. 
His  avowal  that  he  loved  you  had  the  touch  of  nature.  Do  you  love 
her  yet,  Fenwick  .?  " 

"  I  do,"  sighed  the  neophyte,  with  downcast  eyes. 

"  Go  ;  trust  him  !  "  spoke  the  seer  to  Katy.  "  Love  with  respect 
never  harmed  any  woman,  and  his  will  not  harm  you.  He  is  a  part 
of  the  book  you  must  master.  Your  husband  has  deserted  you : 
prepare  yourself  for  life,  even  if  it  brings  you  the  wedding-ring  from 
a  second  husband." 

As  they  turned  to  go,  the  babe  in  Fenwick's  arms,  Hannah  Rit- 
ner called  him  back. 

"  Do  not  think,  sir,  to  prevail  over  Lloyd  Ouantrell  by  any  trick 
of  deceit !  There  is  a  man  that  Rome  itself  will  stoop  to,  for  the 
poor  privilege  of  closing  his  eyes  at  death,  and  numbering  him 
among  its  distinguished  converts.  He  shall  compel  Rome  to  do 
this  child  justice,  if  Rome  must  make  you  a  priest  and  antedate  your 
ordination  to  effect  it.  That  man  is  Abel  Quantrell,  to  whom  I  am 
a  higher  power  than  Rome  to  you." 

As  Katy  and  Fenwick  stepped  out  upon  the  lawn,  the  fruit-trees 
in  blossom,  and  the  blue  flowers  and  water-rill  stirring  in  the  May, 
they  sat  upon  a  bench  at  the  thick-walled  church,  and  looked  back 
at  the  nunnery  in  silence. 

"  That  woman  could  be  a  pope,"  the  young  man  said.  "  Nature 
is  the  widest  church.  In  time  it  will  absorb  them  all,  and  God  be 
everywhere." 

For  months  Katy  applied  herself  to  The  Book.  She  read  much 
of  the  fifty  books  issued  from  the  Ephrata  press,  wept  over  the 
Scriptures,  and  joined  in  the  devotions  of  the  household.  She  was 
of  natural  piety ;  but  her  mind  leaped  along  and  over  the  barriers  of 
this  perishing  monastery  and  its  dull  existence.  Hannah  Ritner's 
influence  kept  her  a  welcome  guest,  and  her  beauty  the  sour  old 
women  deferred  to.  Her  name  was  changed  to  "  Sister  Azuba," 
or  "  The  Deserted." 

Sometimes  Hannah  Ritner  took  her  away  awhile,  among  the 


412 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


hospitals  and  on  the  steamers  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  and  she 
saw  the  bleeding  edges  of  the  mighty  war  that  at  one  baptism  im- 
mersed the  wide  continent ;  but  her  child  called  her  back,  and  she 
learned  to  love  the  cove  among  the  Dunker  hills,  and  to  hunger  for 
the  books  of  human  knowledge. 

"  Lloyd  must  not  find  me  ignorant,"  she  said.  "  And  first  I 
must  learn  the  English  language  ! " 

So  Katy  set  to  work  to  destroy  the  old  German  sounds  upon  her 
tongue  that  had  almost  grown  physiologically  into  the  brain. 

The  Pennsylvania  Dutch  speech  had  no  written  language  nor 
grammar  nor  fixed  forms  of  onhography,  and  was  a  colloquial  lan- 
guage with  hardly  any  literature ;  *  but  it  was  spoken  by  nearly  a 
million  of  the  American  people,  less  from  preference  than  from  one 
unvaried  race  intercouse  of  above  a  hundred  years. 

The  long  e  where  the  short  one  should  be  used,  the  use  of  oo  for 
u  and  of  aw  for  the  short  o,  the  mixing  of  /  and  d  and  of  p  and  b, 
oij  for  ch  and  of  g  for  tsh,  the  confusing  of  the  two  sounds  of  s 
and  of  th,  and  saying/ for  v  and  w  for  v,  and  the  leaving  out  the  h 
sound  after  w,  were  the  true  labors  of  the  German  Augean  stable, 
which  required  a  river  of  English  to  purify  it ;  for,  under  a  decay- 
ing language,  ignorance  hides  Hke  dust  and  mice  on  unused  books. 
Katy  was  a  little  of  a  poet,  and  she  set  these  defects  in  verse : 

"  Eggs  are  not  aiks,  tunes  are  not  toons. 
Dogs  are  not  tawks,  spoons  are  not  s boons  ; 
A  gill  you  drink,  a  chill  you  sweat, 
Ai  Jests  you  laugh,  in  chests  you  get ; 
A  gem  you  wear  on  a  chemise, 
But  play  no  ' zell'  on  i\\e polize ; 
The  zdtie  you  grow,  the  wine  you  bottle, 
The  which  you  whistle,  the  witch  you  throttle  ; 
It  iz  a  job  to  chop  Jane's  chain. 
Not,  iss  a  chop  do  job  Chane's  jane.''' 

During  all  such  exercise,  in  which  Hugh  Fenwick  was  a  teacher 
to  Katy,  he  received  Ouantrell's  letters  by  the  secret  mail  and  sup- 
pressed their  tender  messages  and  contents,  appeasing  his  con- 
science by  the  arguments  that  Ouantrell  was  not  worthy  of  his  wife, 
and  not  entitled  to  communicate  with  loyal  people.  Many  a  prayer 
did  Hugh  Fenwick  make  as  penance  for  this  deceit,  promising  to 

*  Rev.  A.  R.  Home,  Kutztown,  Pennsylvania.     "German  Manual." 


puritan;  JESUIT,   AND   GERMAN.  413 

present  Katy's  soul  in  conversion  at  the  altar  as  a  brand  plucked 
from  heresy  and  sin ;  and  he  also  sublimated  his  patriotism,  declin- 
ing outwardly  to  speak  to  a  secessionist  in  Washington,  while  he 
was  also  the  guest  at  Surratt's  tavern  in  the  country— until  it  had 
been  rented  to  a  dissipated  Washington  policeman— and,  after  that, 
a  guest  at  the  widow's  Washington  boarding-house,  where  occa- 
sionally harbored  some  lodger  between  Canada  and  Richmond  with 
a  rebel  commission  in  one  pocket  and  the  government's  oath  of 
allegiance  in  the  other. 

Fenwick  saw  these  things  while  he  was  in  the  public  service,  and 
cautioned  the  hostess  mildly,  but  never  expressed  his  indignant  sen- 
timents, if,  indeed,  he  had  any. 

The  part  he  loved  to  solace  himself  with,  was  that  of  a  disinter- 
ested mystic,  supervising,  for  authority,  and  without  any  earthly 
prejudice  or  consideration,  the  higher  relations  of  the  soul. 

He  had  the  self-love  of  a  religious  amateur  who  denied  to  him- 
self the  real  purposes  of  his  double-dealing,  which  were  to  mold 
Katy  to  his  social  likeness,  marry  her,  and  in  some  church  or  other, 
it  mattered  not  which,  become  a  comfortable  and  somewhat  sensa- 
tional ornament. 

The  mystery  of  such  a  being  was,  that  he  had  a  nearly  devout 
respect  and  love  for  his  friend's  wife. 

Hugh  met  both  Abel  Quantrell  and  Luther  Bosler  sometimes,  as 
well  as  Nelly  Harbaugh. 

The  senior  Quantrell  and  Henry  Winter  Davis  had  both  antago- 
nized the  President,  as  had  the  great  body  of  professional  abolition- 
ists, partly  because  the  latter  were  on  record  against  him  and  their 
dear  intellectual  self-love,  strengthened  by  the  delights  of  having 
been  right  when  only  a  few,  resented  the  rule  of  a  man  who  meant 
to  obey  the  laws  first,  and,  if  possible,  make  the  law  and  not  lawless- 
ness destroy  slavery.  With  every  personal  ambition  to  emancipate 
these  blacks,  the  President  had  even  a  higher  duty — to  preserve  the 
republic,  for  which  every  aristocracy  and  court  were  lying  in  wait. 
Emancipation  without  America,  which  was  nothing  but  the  United 
States,  would  be  like  the  voice  of  Rachel,  in  Rama,  weeping  for  all 
her  children. 

"  Cube  it !  "  sternly  demanded  Abel  Quantrell. 

"  I  shall,"  said  President  Lincoln;  "and,  if  I  understand  a  cube, 
it  is  a  solid,  and  not  a  sound.     We  want  our  country  back.     You, 


414 


KATY  OF  C A  TO  C  TIN. 


Uncle  Abel,  are  like  a  friend  I  had  in  Illinois,  who  had  a  home- 
made cherry  bounce,  bottled  up  since  his  childhood,  and  powerfully 
heady,  of  which  he  used  to  drink  too  early  in  the  morning,  and  it 
made  him  see  everj^thing  in  pairs.  He  was  about  your  age,  Uncle 
Abel — say  seventy — when  he  celebrated  his  birthday  by  falling  down- 
stairs. He  saw  two  balusters — one  was  there,  and  one  wasn't  there, 
and  he  took  hold  of  the  one  that  wasn't  there,  and  fell  all  the  way 
down." 

The  tall  President  had  dropped  into  his  chair  while  speaking, 
and  rested  his  long  feet  on  his  heels,  turning  up  an  old  pair  of  carpet 
slippers ;  and  he  now  leaned  his  long  arms  on  his  knees,  and  almost 
shouted  with  laughter. 

"  Cube  it,  Mr.  President ! "  again  said  Abel  Ouantrell,  almost 
pityingly,  at  such  levity. 

"Abel,"  replied  the  President,  "that  reminds  me  of  the  saying, 
'  Which  of  you,  by  taking  thought,  can  add  one  cubit  to  his  stature  ?  ' 
It  is  not  ideas  now  which  can  win  the  day,  but  armies.  I  want  a 
victory  in  the  field,  and  after  that  I  may,  as  a  war  measure,  set  a 
date  for  the  legal  termination  of  slavery.  Even  then  it  will  be  a 
sound  and  not  a  solid,  my  friend,  till  our  soldier-boys  cube  it  with 
victory'  on  all  four  sides  of  the  rebellion  at  once." 

The  laugh  was  on  Abel  Quantrell,  and  reformers  can  not  bear  to 
be  laughed  at. 

Mr.  Davis  considered  that  the  President  had  not  enough  per- 
sonal resentment  in  his  nature.  Surrounded  by  unscrupulous  and 
malignant  personal  and  political  enemies,  that  Congressman  wanted 
aid  to  smite  them  in  Maryland,  but  the  President  was  too  noble  to 
hate  anybody. 

The  most  complete  and  many-sided  man  of  his  day.  President 
Lincoln  was  too  original  to  have  any  petty  intensity,  and  his  way  of 
meeting  intense  and  narrow  people  with  light  jokes  and  laughter 
seemed  to  them  the  marks  of  a  low  mind. 

The  East  was  still  worshiping  appearances  and  studying  Euro- 
pean military  history,  while  the  West,  with  an  every-day  look  on 
its  face,  was  driving  the  great  lines  of  the  rebellion  in,  and  only  on 
the  line  of  the  Valley,  indicated  by  John  Brown,  was  the  border  still 
vulnerable  to  the  enemy;  and  he  was  now  to  cross  it,  and  invade 
Maryland. 

Hannah  Ritner  arrived  at  Snow  Hill  one  day  in  a  hired  buggy. 

"  Katy,"  said  she,  "  the  insurgents  have  beaten  McClellan  and 


LLOYD'S  HUNTING-PARK. 


415 


Pope,  and  crossed  the  Potomac  !  They  are  in  Frederick  City  to- 
night. I  was  robbed  of  my  single-footed  racker  on  my  way  to  ap- 
prise your  father,  and  I  came  too  late — his  herd  was  driven  off,  and 
the  old  farm  is  a  desolation  !  Catoctin  Valley  is  held  by  the  enemy, 
and  they  are  investing  Harper's  Ferry." 

"  Hurrah  ! "  piped  Job  Snowberger,  coming  in  with  the  old  Ser- 
geant's gun  ;  "  I've  persewered  as  fur  as  te  heilich  life,  and  now  Fm 
backshlided  and  goin'  to  te  heilich  war  ! " 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

LLOYD'S   HUNTING-PARK. 

It  was  natural  enough  that  the  guide  of  the  insurgent  army  into 
Maryland  and  Pennsylvania  should  have  been  one  of  the  Logans — 
the  mountain  slave-catchers.  They  knew  all  the  by-roads,  and,  if 
the  invasion  had  succeeded,  the  blood-hound  would  have  been  the 
next  guide,  chasing  up  fugitive  slaves. 

The  issues  to  be  settled  under  the  South  Mountain,  and  by  the 
Antietam  mill-stream,  were  the  same  determined  by  Charles  Martel, 
on  the  plains  of  Europe — whether  women  should  have  souls,  and 
Christians  liberty ! 

The  defeat  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  there,  might  have  made 
slavery  the  dictator  of  all  future  American  law  and  policy ;  it  would 
next  have  compelled  Canada  and  Mexico  to  remand  fugitive  slaves, 
and  the  slave-trade  would  have  been  opened  with  Africa  and  Poly- 
nesia, and  Europe  forced  to  consent  or  fight ;  for  men  who  would 
attack  the  United  States  in  the  proportion  of  one  to  three,  would 
not  hesitate  to  attack  any  state  in  Europe ;  and,  in  fact,  the  educa- 
tion of  slavery  had  made  the  fiercest  white  race  on  the  globe  since 
Mohammed  and  his  caliphs — a  democracy  practicing  slave-driving 
had  all  the  energy  of  a  popular  society  with  all  the  bigotry  of  Orient- 
alism. The  fatalist  Presbyterian,  to  whom  was  consigned  the  capt- 
ure of  Harper's  Ferry,  as  the  principal  result  of  the  invasion  of  Mary- 
land, would  have  been  no  unwelcome  general  to  Abderrahman  or 
Kara  Mustapha. 

There,  under  the  fatuity  of  belief  that  the  old  mountain  hole 
was  important,  the  government  kept  a  garrison  of  twelve  thousand 


4l6  KATY  OF  CATOCriN. 

men,  while  the  insurgents  also  felt  annoyed  to  leave  this  hollow 
post  in  their  rear  ;  and,  turning  to  take  it,  they  lost  the  great  battle 
of  Antietam,  and  also  learned  that  their  remaining  sympathizers  in 
Maryland  did  not  enlist  for  open  war. 

Lloyd  Quantrell,  like  many  a  one  returned  to  his  native  State, 
kissed  the  ground,  and  heard  the  bands  play  "  Marjland,"  and  read 
the  proclamation  of  the  heir-at-law  of  Washington,  that  "  freedom 
of  the  press  has  been  supressed  " ;  and  next,  Lloyd  saw  the  Union 
newspaper  office  at  Frederick  destroyed.  The  more  honest  procla- 
mation was  that  of  the  Maryland  rebel  brigadier :  "  Come,  all  who 
wish  to  strike  for  their  liberties,  and  each  man  provide  himself  with 
a  pair  of  shoes,  a  good  blanket,  and  a  tin  cup." 

The  mountain  counties  had  too  few  slaves  to  be  interested  in  an 
otherwise  causeless  rebellion.*  The  false  prophet  lost  nearly  as 
many  by  desertion  as  he  took  at  Harper's  Ferry. 

There  an  officer  with  great  consideration  for  slavery  was  in  com- 
mand, and  at  the  head  of  the  government  army  was  another  who 
had  rather  instruct  his  President  on  the  enormity  of  freedom,  than 
go  and  strike  the  invader  and  follow  him  home. 

Stonewall  Jackson  was  the  John  Brown  of  his  cause,  and,  like 
Brown,  sat  down  in  Harper's  Ferry  and  paroled  his  prisoners ;  and 
the  war  was  to  continue  till  every  influential  officer  and  civil  ruler 
of  the  two  sides  became  fashioned  to  their  likeness — a  Union  man 
had  to  hate  slavery,  and  a  disunionist  to  fear  freedom.  Stanton 
was  the  one  great  Unionist  with  the  intensity  of  the  secessionists 
themselves  ;  they  saw  him  and  hated  their  own  likeness. 

Quantrell  served  as  the  stafT-officer  of  a  great  slaveholder  from 
Georgia,  who  had  seen  his  political  party  break  up  and  the  Republi- 
can party  prevail,  rather  than  let  his  rival,  the  opponent  of  President 
Lincoln,  receive  the  Democratic  party's  leadership.  Jealousy,  com- 
mencing in  the  party,  had  been  the  widening  avenue  to  treason. 
This  able  man,  who  had  handled  the  finances  of  his  whole  country, 
now  found  himself  defending  Crampton's  Gap,  one  of  two  depres- 
sions in  the  long  South  Mountain  wall ;  and  as  the  government 
troops  stretched  across  the  Catoctin  Valley  to  carry  the  pass,  some- 

*  ' '  The  section  occupied  by  the  Confederate  army  was  inhabited  by  people 
who  had,  for  the  most  part,  very  different  views  and  feelings  from  those  of  the 
more  southern  counties.  In  the  latter,  and  in  Baltimore,  thousands  would  have 
flocked  to  the  standard  of  Lee,"  but  if,  and  so  forth. — Scharf's  rebel  and  official 
•*  History  of  Maryland." 


LLOYD'S  HUNTING-PARK. 


4^7 


thing  in  their  numbers  and  deliberation  awed  his  heart.  Quantrell 
was  sent  along  the  mountain-crest  to  solicit  re-enforcements  from 
the  greater  insurgent  wing  which  held  the  pass  of  the  old  National 
road,  some  miles  northward. 

Suddenly  he  heard  the  strains  of  a  band  of  music  swell  up  from 
the  plain  behind  him,  to  the  air  of  a  Maryland  poet  of  other  days  : 

"  Oh,  thus  be  it  ever,  when  freemen  shall  stand 
Between  their  loved  homes  and  the  war's  desolation  ! 
Blest  with  victory  and  peace,  may  the  Heaven-rescued  land 
Praise  the  Power  that  hath  made  and  preserved  us  a  nation  ! 
Then  conquer  we  must,  when  our  cause  it  is  just, 
And  this  be  our  motto — *  In  God  is  our  trust.' 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave." 

Lloyd's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  he  heard  this  tender  music — 
plaintive,  hopeful,  and  trustful ;  like  a  Te  Deiim,  threatening  none — 
execrating  none — resting  upon  the  spirit  of  Heaven  in  the  hearts  of 
the  young  and  devoted. 

"  Why  can  not  we  play  that  piece  }  "  said  he.  "  I  know  it  is 
never  played  in  our  camps ;  but  why  not  ?  Have  we  lost  our 
State,  our  flag,  our  music,  too  ?     What  have  we  got  in  return  ?  " 

As  he  dried  his  eyes,  and  looked  at  his  shoes,  half  unsoled,  and 
his  garments  and  skin  dirty,  and  himself  come  back,  like  a  gypsy 
tramp,  to  the  mountains  of  his  childhood,  he  heard  the  fifes  and 
drums  in  Crampton's  Gap  playing  the  old,  monotonous,  drunken- 
student  tune,  like  a  Roundhead  drawl  sung  through  the  nose  to  in- 
sidious suggestions,  to  the  words — 

"  Better  the  fire  upon  thee  roll, 
Better  the  blade,  the  shot,  the  bowl, 
Than  crucifixion  of  the  soul, 

Maryland  !  my  Maryland  !  " 

"  Nice  present  for  Maryland  from  her  friends,"  Lloyd  reflected— 
"  the  torch,  the  dirk-knife,  the  assassin's  shot,  and  a  bowl,  either  of 
poison  or  turpentine-whisky  !  " 

He  drank  of  the  good  rye  he  had  purloined  at  one  of  the  distil- 
leries in  Catoctin  Valley,  the  capture  of  which  had  appeared  yester- 
day to  be  the  political  motive  of  the  whole  war. 

Suddenly  he  thought  of  the  Sunday  evening  when  he  had  left 


41 8  KATY  OF  C A  TO  C  TIN. 

Katy,  near  Crampton's  Gap,  and  the  mysterious  music  of  fife  and 
drum  had  followed  her  retreating  wheels. 

"  O  prophecy  of  this  desolation  !  "  Quantrell  cried ;  "  was  it  I  who 
brought  this  war  upon  my  country  ?  Did  my  coming  to  these  mount- 
ains bring  ruin  to  a  single  heart  or  shame  to  any  hearth  ?  God  help 
me !  What  will  to-morrow  bring  them,  when  every  fife  screams 
hate,  and  every  drum  beats  '  kill '  ?  " 

He  had  stumbled  along  the  mountain- table,  when  he  found  him- 
self at  the  edge  of  a  rock  parapet,  and  identified  the  spot  as  that 
where  he  had  met  Isaac  Smith  and  sons  under  their  assumed  names, 
the  day  he  shot  the  dove. 

Looking  out  upon  the  rival  valleys,  Lloyd  recognized  his  hunt- 
ing-park, somewhat  as  he  had  desired  it  that  day,  when  he  said  :  "  I 
would  clean  out  the  whole  region  like  a  Norman  king ;  all  the  wild 
beasts  should  return  again — none  but  native  American  beasts,  you 
bet !  " 

Every  beast  was  here ;  every  hamlet  had  become  its  lair ;  and 
from  the  North  Mountain,  more  than  twenty  miles  away,  to  Hagers- 
town  and  the  Pennsylvania  vales,  stretched  the  uncoiled  insurrec- 
tion, with  one  fold  only  around  Harper's  Ferry,  and  the  flat  head, 
like  the  sluggish  copperhead  snake's,  hissing  at  Baltimore,  where 
lay  the  government  fleet  to  raze  that  city  if  it  sought  to  rise  and 
destroy  itself. 

The  mild,  wistful  eyes  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  whose  life  w^ould 
pay  the  price  of  his  devotion  if  his  army  failed,  looked  out  from 
Washington  city — his  enemy  far  in  his  rear,  and  hardly  a  day's 
march  from  his  person — and  he  knelt  in  the  agony  of  his  responsi- 
bility to  the  God  he  had  sometimes  doubted,  and  promised,  if  the 
battle  were  favorable,  to  proclaim  slavery  the  nation's  outlaw. 

As  if  Heaven  had  taken  the  President  at  his  word,  the  army 
charged  the  South  Mountain  with  a  spirit  it  had  never  shown.  Be- 
hind Quantrell,  the  old  statesman's  command  was  torn  to  pieces, 
and  among  the  killed  were  some  of  his  own  family  ;  and,  in  the 
Gap  ahead,  the  soldiery  of  the  West  fought  far  into  the  night,  and 
hurled  their  enemy  down  the  mountain,  though  he  had  massed  thirty 
thousand  men  to  keep  this  rampart.  Three  thousand  fellow-men 
lay  on  the  mountain-side,  crying  for  water  and  death. 

Quantrell  was  caught  up  in  the  tide  of  flying  men  and  carried 
on  to  Sharpsburg — that  same  little  town  where  he  had  volunteered 
to  carry  the  letter  to  Isaac  Smith  nearly  three  years  before. 


LLOYD'S  HUNTING-PARK. 


419 


Here,  in  the  dawn,  stretched  thousands  of  men  upon  the  bare 
ground  ;  hundreds  more  were  contending  for  water  at  the  stone- 
arched  spring. 

"  The  blessings  of  our  Confederacy  have  been,  up  to  this  time," 
Lloyd  thought,  "  hardly  to  leave  Maryland  water  to  drink." 

He  went  to  the  commanding  general's  and  asked  for  a  place  in 
the  coming  battle,  and  they  sent  him  to  the  Dunker  church  near 
by,  where  he  had  plighted  troth  with  Katy ;  and  that  night,  as  Fate 
would  have  it,  he  slept  beneath  the  September  stars,  in  the  Dunker 
grave-yard,  where,  at  the  grave  of  Katy's  mother,  he  had  put  his 
own  mother's  ring  upon  Katy's  hand,  and  heard  a  mystic  music  in 
the  fields. 

Now,  from  the  small  mountainous  ridges,  from  the  fields  ribbed 
with  limestone,  and  the  drooping  woods  of  hickory  and  oak,  came 
the  pipes  and  bands  of  vast  and  organized  war — not  like  the  handful 
of  John  Brown's  followers  caught  in  the  mountain's  jaws,  but  land- 
scapes of  men  embroidered  between  the  great  quilt ing-f ram es  of  the 
North  and  the  South  Mountains ;  and  the  Antietam  brook,  like  a 
ball  of  blue  yarn,  lying  on  the  floor  below. 

At  dawn,  next  day,  the  bright  needles  began  their  task,  and  the 
red  and  white  patches  spangled  the  rich  groundwork  ;  like  scis- 
sors cutting,  the  shell  and  shrapnel  clipped  the  air ;  while  smoke  of 
burning  rags  and  flesh  went  up  to  God  in  human  sacrifice.  It  was 
the  domestic  quilting-party  over  domestic  slavery. 

During  that  night,  thinking  of  where  he  might  lie  the  night  to 
follow,  Lloyd  Ouantrell  imagined  he  saw  on  the  South  Mountain 
summit  the  gaunt  form  of  John  Brown  demonstrating  with  a  pike 
upon  the  great  blackboard  of  the  battle-field,  and  saying,  "  This, 
gentlemen,  is  the  inevitable  line  of  war  !  " 


The  battle  of  Antietam  may  be  likened  to  two  leopards  lying  in 
a  brook,  and  fighting  all  day  with  their  heads  and  teeth,  and  not 
till  near  night  remembering  the  terrible  claws  upon  their  hinder 
feet,  when  these,  also,  do  ferocious  work. 

At  light  of  Wednesday  morning,  the  flexile  animals  began  the 
roar  of  war,  contending  for  the  Dunker  church  through  corn-fields 
and  lanes ;  and  that  little  temple  of  the  peaceful  Dippers,  standing 
on  a  white  turnpike  in  the  edge  of  beautiful  woods,  was  the  only 
Christian  sign  to  twenty-five  thousand  dead  or  bleeding  men,  who 


420 


KATY  OF  CATOCTJN. 


lay  that  night  beneath  the  breeze  that  carried  the  symphony  of  their 
wails  to  the  old  mill-wheels  in  the  creek,  which  turned  as  innocently 
to  blood  as  to  water.  These  mills  had  ground  out  flour  for  Wash- 
ington's army,  and  for  the  French  wars  a  hundred  years  before. 

The  three  arched  bridges  of  the  creek  typified  to  many  a  burning 
man  the  three  heads  on  Calvary  with  the  hyssop  at  their  lips. 

In  little  villages,  like  Nazareth  or  Bethlehem  of  old,  the  taxed 
people  crowded  to  pay  Pilate  the  currency  of  blood,  and  many  a 
pale  virgin  heard  Joseph  the  carpenter's  saw  all  the  night  working 
in  human  bones. 

Artillery  had  been  busy  as  the  talk  of  crows  in  the  standing 
corn,  for  a  full  day's  farm-hands'  work ;  the  volleys  of  musketry 
seemed  to  rend  the  intervening  mountains,  and  account  for  their 
present  partitioning ;  the  old  sycamores  above  the  sluggish  wind- 
ings of  the  creek  calmly  slept  in  the  tornado  of  iron,  like  the  Dunkers 
in  their  graves. 

How  many  a  barn  of  stone,  such  as  were  scattered  over  that 
rolling  battle  plateau,  seemed  to  its  fugitives  of  both  armies,  who 
crowded  there  fraternally,  to  be  the  palace  of  God's  abundance,  un- 
til the  missile  of  Christian  chemistry  made  it  burst  to  flame,  and  be 
old  Torquemada's  sacrifice  to  the  faith  ! 

In  grassy  cross-lanes,  where  the  sighs  of  pastoral  love  had 
passed  in  the  innocent  sight  of  nibbling  sheep,  there  lay  at  mom 
the  specters  of  entangled  bodies,  swelling  to  quick  decay,  like  the 
hewed  trees  upon  the  mountains  and  the  corded  wood. 

By  night,  the  lamps  of  good  Samaritan  and  robber  moved 
among  the  sufferers,  hearing  the  cry  of  "  water,"  and  answering  it 
with  rapine ;  or  the  cry  for  "  death,"  and  answering  it  with  water 
and  with  wine. 

The  whole  world  contributed  to  that  last  supper  to  slaver)^ ;  the 
multitudinous  tribes  that  had  swelled  by  their  mutiny  and  emigra- 
tion the,  as  yet,  unwelded  American  race,  dipped  in  the  sop  of  An- 
tietam,  and  sighed  in  all  the  tongues  before  the  Pentecostal  day. 

The  public  enemy,  with  the  Potomac  at  his  back— looped  up  to 
his  flanks  and  cinctured  by  his  pontoons — held  the  horizon  line  above 
the  creek,  and  watched  the  three  stone  bridges  of  the  Antietam  ; 
but  only  at  the  far  left  was  battle  given  for  the  Union  willingly,  and 
it  seemed  in  the  moral  laws  of  the  world  ordained  that  the  com- 
mander, who  would  qualify  freedom  in  his  heart,  could  receive  only 
qualified  obedience.    The  nearest  bridge  to  Sharpsburg  was  not 


LLO  YD  'S  HUNTING-PARK.  42 1 

attacked  till  afternoon,  though  ordered  to  be  carried  at  dawn  ;  and 
when  that  town  was  almost  taken,  the  returning  victors  from  Har- 
per's Ferry  appeared  and  saved  it. 

Thus  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men  had  tried  a  whole  day 
to  destroy  each  other,  upon  the  issue  of  two  nations  or  one — no  other 
moral  point  was  then  at  issue. 

But  the  President  at  Washington  had  recorded  his  vow.  The 
day  but  two  after  the  battle  he  read  to  his  cabinet  the  proclamation 
of  emancipation,  and  the  Monday  after  the  battle — washing-day  in 
the  State — it  was  published  to  mankind. 

Before  it  serfdom  went  down  everywhere.  The  Russian  and 
Brazilian  followed  the  spirit  of  old  King  Frederick,  and  the  Ameri- 
can followed  the  example  of  Frederick's  sword-wearer,  Captain  John 
Brown. 

These  were  the  words  of  mercy,  born  out  of  the  autumn  harvest 
of  the  Bunker's  vale  : 

"  On  the  first  day  of  January,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  i86j, 
all  persons  held  as  slaves  by  the  people  in  rebellion  against  the 
United  States  shall  be  then,  thenceforward,  and  forever,  free." 

The  stream  of  Dutch  immigration  moving  down  the  Cumberland 
valley  from  the  Delaware,  had  prepared  the  battle-field  of  emancipa- 
tion, and  verified  the  proclamation  of  Mennonites  and  Dunkers  a 
century  and  three  quarters  before :  "  We  shall  doe  to  all  men  licke 
as  we  will  be  done  ourselves,  making  no  difference  in  what  genera- 
tion, descent,  or  colour  they  are."  * 

In  the  night  the  enemy  had  abandoned  Marj'land  and  crossed 
the  river. 

Not  long  afterward,  President  Lincoln  rode  from  Frederick  City 
across  the  mountains,  in  the  month  of  October,  to  see  these  battle- 
fields—the nearest  to  his  fame— and  they  took  him  to  the  mountain- 
farm  of  John  Brown,  whence  that  outlaw  had  descended  upon  Vir- 
ginia with  his  Gideonites,  nearly  three  years  before,  in  the  same 
russet  mohth. 

The  President  got  down  from  his  carriage  in  the  lane  by  the  old 
log-hut,  and  asked  the  privilege  of  entering  the  spot  alone. 

He  looked  within  the  humble  stone  basement  at  the  bare  floor, 
and  peeped  into  the  small,  contracted  loft. 

He  sat  in  John  Brown's  own  room  ;  and  the  memory  of  his  child- 

*  Mennonite  protest  against  slavery  to  the  Pennsylvania  Quaker  slavehold- 
ers, April  18,  1688. 


422 


KATV  OF  CATOCTI.V. 


hood,  in  such  a  hut  as  this,  brought  back  the  recollection  of  his 
mother  and  her  barefoot  brood. 

He  thought  of  his  tanned  and  hazel-eyed  mother,  crossing  the 
Ohio  to  a  home  as  bare  as  this,  among  the  wild  pines,  and  a  little 
clearing  of  Indian  corn,  in  the  bottoms  of  Indiana.  He  thought  of 
her  dymg  when  he  was  only  nine  years  old,  and  the  digging  of  her 
lonely  grave,  without  a  preacher  near  to  see  her  dear  mold  go  down 
beneath  the  October  sycamore ;  and  of  his  desolate  father,  looking 
his  last  upon  her  with  a  sound  of  inarticulate  woe  and  wringing 
hands.  The  trees  without  made  the  same  sound  now  in  the  same 
October  weather,  saying  Indian  things  in  the  afternoon  light. 

"  Dear  mothers  of  poor  boys  !  "  the  President  said,  "  look  down 
in  pity  on  the  orphans  who  have  made  their  way  to  public  life  in 
honor  of  your  characters,  and  never  find  the  unselfish  joy  you  gave 
them,  even  in  the  solace  of  such  opportunities  for  good  as  poor 
John  Brown's  and  mine  !  Oh,  could  you  tell  me,  mother,  that  I  am 
right,  and  give  me  the  luxury  of  that  great  grief  I  felt  when  you 
were  suffering,  I  would  gladly  lie  down  here  and  surrender  to  the 
silence  of  a  grave  like  yours,  the  honors  and  the  troubles  I  am  so 
much  envied  for  !  " 

Tears  bade  the  President  go  down  to  the  old  spring- house  and 
bathe  his  eyes.  As  he  reached  it,  a  large,  black-haired  woman  sat 
there  beneath  the  hooded  roof,  and  looked  up  at  him  like  one  ex- 
pected, and  with  compassion  like  the  mother  of  his  youth. 

"  My  son,"  she  said,  in  deep,  indwelling  tones,  "have  you  come, 
also,  to  the  martyr's  farm  }  Shall  I  see  you  go  out  of  this  lane  never 
to  return,  however  victorious  ?  " 

"  I  know  your  face,"  the  President  said,  in  pleasant  recognition. 
"  You  are  one  of  the  hospital  nurses  and  Sisters  of  Dorcas  who  come 
sometimes  to  my  office.     Did  you  know  John  Brown  ?  " 

"  He  was  another  son  of  mine,"  the  dark  woman  said ;  "  I 
brought  him  to  this  barren  shrine,  near  the  hut  where  I  had  minis- 
tered to  many  escaping  slaves.  I  saw  his  destiny,  and  I  see  yours, 
President.  Let  old  Hannah  Ritner,  the  witch  of  Smoketown,  look 
into  your  hand  !  " 

The  President  hesitated,  still  looking  at  her  kindly,  and  he 
touched  his  moist  eyes  with  his  hands. 

"  Be  careful,  friend,"  he  spoke  ;  "  my  sensibilities  have  been  a  lit- 
tle moved  by  thinking  of  some  things  of  childhood,  and  I  derive 
from  my  old  Dutch  ancestry,  which  lived  at  both  ends  of  this  same 


LLOYD'S  HUNTLNG-PARK.  423 

valley,  a  vein  of  superstition.  I  hope  you  will  not  press  me  too 
hard." 

"  Your  fortune  has  already  been  told,  my  gifted  son." 

"  Yes ;  once  it  was.  When  I  was  a  young  man  I  went  to  New 
Orleans,  and  saw  a  beautiful  yellow  girl  sold  on  the  block,  and  I 
wished  I  might  live  to  see  slavery  end.  That  very  day  a  fortune- 
teller—an  old  Voudoo — solemnly  told  me  that  I  would  be  President, 
and  all  the  negroes  would  be  free."  * 

"  It  has  come  to  pass,  my  noble  son  !  I  will  soon  be  laid  away, 
obscurely  as  the  patient  mother  you  were  just  invoking  by  those 
tears,  and,  like  the  Scripture  witch  of  old,  I  would  connect  my  in- 
tuitions with  your  fate ;  for  you  look  down  on  me  like  Jonathan,  the 
son  of  Saul's  own  stature.  Give  a  poor  mourner  for  the  hero  who 
died  on  the  gallows,  that  hand  which  executed  his  unsuccessful  pur- 
pose with  the  more  merciful  pen  !  " 

The  President  held  out  his  hand.  She  took  it  and  drew  him  to- 
ward her,  and,  gathering  up  her  sheet  of  black  and  silver  hair  which 
had  fallen  in  tlie  spring,  she  wiped  his  eyes  and  scoured  his  palm 
with  her  hairs. 

With  face  bent  over  his  hand,  and  accents  which  were  low,  but 
made  her  bosom  throb,  Hannah  Ritner  spoke  these  words  : 

"  The  fierce  are  threatened  oft, 

And  live  life  out ; 
The  wolf  assails  the  soft — 

Have  thou  no  doubt  ! 
He  whose  remaining  gun 

At  thee  takes  aim. 
Shall  save  the  tenderest  one 

All  of  his  fame  ! " 

When  the  President  heard  these  words,  he  saw  the  woman  sink 
to  her  place  upon  the  stone,  by  the  log  spring-house,  under  the  rot- 
ting roof. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he,  "  for  the  kindness  of  your  augury.  When 
my  time  comes,  may  God  find  me  with  no  cares  upon  my  face !  " 


During  the  battle  for  the  Dunker  church,  Lloyd  Quantrell,  at  the 
head  of  a  detachment  from  everywhere  :  conscripts,  filibusters,  lads 

*  This  prediction  is  recorded  in  Arnold's  "  Life  of  Lincoln,"  p.  31. 


424 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


taken  from  school  to  stop  bullets,  and  lads  never  meant  for  school 
at  all,  but  to  be  " sand-hillers  "  and  "crackers,"  like  all  their  genera- 
tions ;  bright  Virginia  yeomen  and  ardent  young  Carolinians,  Irish- 
men from  the  wharves  of  cities.  Creoles  from  the  levees,  with  Span- 
ish and  St.  Domingo  blood  ;  fat,  chicken-fed  Georgians  and  Alaba- 
mans, lean  duelists  and  card-players  from  Mississippi,  men  without 
origin  from  the  spontaneous  grass  of  Texas,  and  freckled  skeletons 
from  Tennessee — fought  the  ever-recurring  advance  of  the  Union 
army  with  the  business  coolness  and  rallying  power  he  showed  in 
Baltimore  in  firemen's  times.  Though  Lloyd  had  reasoned  upon 
the  errors  and  follies  of  the  secession  cause,  he  gave  it  his  full  phys- 
ical loyalty,  and  on  his  native  soil  would  surpass  his  best  endeavors, 
in  the  sight  of  all  these  wild  levies. 

His  gun  in  hand  at  times,  his  pistols  at  others,  his  sword  at  closer 
quarters,  and  at  times  with  nothing  at  all,  he  made  the  trembling 
stand,  cheered  the  young  tyro  at  man-killing,  pointed  the  place  of 
latest  danger,  and  hurried  to  make  it  good  ;  and,  gigantic  in  stature, 
free  in  humor,  forgetful  of  everything  but  the  pleasure  and  hotness 
of  the  fight,  he  stood  more  distinct  than  a  general,  with  clothes 
ripped  by  bullets  and  hat  already  ragged,  one  arm  in  a  sling  and  his 
pair  of  new  boots  taken  from  a  Federal  corpse,  his  face  black  with 
powder  and  his  food  an  ear  of  com,  and  the  dead  around  and  before 
him  unobserved  as  the  limestone  ledges  which  stood  also  in  battle- 
lines  under  the  beautiful  woods. 

His  negro,  Ashby,  brought  him  water  at  times,  constant  but  au- 
tomatic, and  once  in  the  lull  of  battle,  when  far  away  the  artillery 
roared  like  lightning  in  the  mountains,  Lloyd  raised  a  laugh  among 
his  desperate  but  discouraged  men  by  saying : 

"  Ashby,  how  did  you  get  on  this  side  ?  The  Yankees  will  hang 
you  ! " 

"  I's  cornscripted,"  replied  the  negro,  "like  most  of  dese  yer  pa- 
triots— cornscripted  by  my  'fections  !  " 

The  blue  line  of  battle  came  on  again  through  the  shot-mowed 
Indian  maize,  announced  by  the  skirmishers  falling  back  with  reports 
like  pop-corn  in  the  pan. 

"  Now.  boys,"  cried  Quantrell,  "we'll  blow  them  out  like  a  can- 
dle !  We've  had  a  little  rest.  Lie  down  behind  the  stone  copings 
and  take  aim,  and  fire  low — only  when  I  give  the  word." 

The  emaciated,  awed,  but  energized  battalion  fell  down,  and 
awaited  the  shock  of  war. 


LLOYD'S  HUNTING-PARK.  ^2$ 

"  Great  Patapsco  !  "  laughed  Quantrell,  "  how  many  more  Yan- 
kees can  there  be  ?  We've  killed  a  million,  and  here  they  come 
again.  This  war  will  last  till  the  Yankees  learn  to  fire  low,  and  then 
it  won't  last  six  months." 

He  was  a  great  comfort  to  his  men — candid,  saucy,  satirical,  as 
apt  to  sing  as  to  swear — and  now  he,  alone,  stood  up,  gnawing  a  half 
dry  ear  of  corn,  and  shaking  the  cob  at  the  enemy — otherwise  un- 
armed— and  daring  them  to  come  nearer  : 

"  Come  on  !  Right  here,  to  meeting  !  Come  to  love-feast !  Come 
get  your  feet  washed  !  Come  get  your  hair  cut  !  Come  and  get 
some  lamb-soup  !     Come,  brethren — come  to  hell ! " 

Stalwart  and  ragged  as  a  pirate,  Lloyd's  sense  of  humor  even  in 
this  moment  of  intensity  rose  supreme  ;  for  the  Federal  leader  was, 
like  the  Dunkers  he  had  described,  with  straggling  beard  and  shaved 
lip  and  long  hair. 

A  blast  of  flame  and  lead  blew  from  the  Northern  rifles,  and  the 
old  Dunker  church  cracked  Hke  a  white  slave  under  the  rawhide. 

"  Hold  fast !  I'll  make  him  who  fires  before  I  speak,  eat  all  this 
corn-cob  !     Low,  now,  and— ^r^  /  " 

The  ground  burst  with  smoke,  and  in  the  smoke  rose  the  feeble 
rebel  yell,  and  on  before  was  another  yell  like  women  screaming. 

"  Snuffed  out !  "  exclaimed  Quantrell,  grimly ;  "  all  are  dead  that 
have  got  legs.     Give  me  a  fresh  ear,  somebody  !  " 

His  men  had  hardly  congratulated  themselves,  when  the  blue 
line  reappeared,  decimated,  shorter,  but  steady  yet — reformed  be- 
hind the  knoll  and  the  corn — and  the  bearded  figure  leading  it  on, 
wore  his  arm  also  in  a  sling  now,  like  Lloyd  Quantrell. 

"That  Yankee's  almost  as  saucy  as  I  am,"  chuckled  Lloyd  to 
his  men.  "  Now,  down  again,  and  finish  them  !  Not  a  trigger 
goes  till  I  call  out !— What  are  you  doing  here,  Ashby  ?  Go  to  the 
rear ! " 

"  Don't  you  want  your  sword,  mosster  ?  " 

"No.  Give  me  a  drink!— 77;^/  is  a  cool  chap  yonder,  sure! 
Now,  law — fire  !  " 

As  the  smoke  and  dust  arose  from  the  fields,  the  same  mourn- 
ful wail  and  the  same  rejoicing  rebel  yell  echoed  to  each  other. 

"  The  graveyard's  full !  "  said  Lloyd  ;  "  I  don't  see  a  man  !  " 

As  the  volleys  of  musketry  went  round  the  circuit  of  the  battle- 
field, and  the  hushed  and  wondering  soldiery  gazed  forth  from  the 
Dunker  woods,  they  saw  the  same  man,  in  beard  and  long  hair,  ap- 


426 


KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 


pear  at  the  edge  of  the  corn-field,  at  the  head  of  a  poor  and  un- 
certain handful  of  men  in  blue.  He  waved  a  sword  and  shook  his 
head,  and  seemed  to  be  saying,  "  Forward  ! " 

It  was  in  vain.  The  waft  of  death,  twice  blown  from  those 
mysterious  woods,  had  broken  the  hearts  of  his  followers. 

"  Come,  brother ! "  shouted  Lloyd,  "  we'll  divide  the  porridge 
with  you.  Bring  them  along ! — And  you,  my  men,  down  there 
again,  and  wait  for  the  word  I  " 

The  bearded,  man  seemed  now  making  a  speech.  He  threat- 
ened his  soldiers  with  a  drawn  pistol.  He  stripped  his  sword-sash 
from  his  body  and  threw  it  on  the  ground  and  stamped  upon  it. 

"  They  won't  come,"  said  Ouantrell ;  "  I  wouldn't  if  I  was  they. 
But  the  bully,  yonder,  is  a  lion." 

The  man  they  looked  at  now  walked  right  toward  them,  head 
up,  and  the  heroism  of  death  in  his  tension  and  devotion.  He 
came  on,  pistol  in  hand,  not  to  surrender,  but  to  defy,  and  to  set 
the  example  of  duty,  and  to  die. 

"Why,"  Quantrell  said,  "if  this  was  his  church,  and  he  the 
preacher  of  it,  he  couldn't  show  more  confidence  walking  up  to  his 
pulpit.     Don't  fire  at  him.     Don't  kill  that  man  !  " 

To  the  credit  of  the  worst  among  them,  there  was  no  such  in- 
tention. His  personal,  unattended  valor,  and  the  appreciation  of  it, 
encompassed  the  whole  battalion  of  his  enemies.  But  it  became 
apparent  that  he  must  die,  lest  he  kill  some  one  or  many  among 
them.  His  pace  never  slackened,  nor  were  his  features  relaxed. 
He  meant  to  give  his  life,  but  to  exact  life  for  it. 

The  w^hole  stooping  body  peered  up  to  see  him ;  guns  were 
cocked,  and  his  heart  seemed  to  beat  visibly  in  the  air  where  he 
walked,  like  the  perforated  cardboard  it  was  in  a  moment  to  be. 

"  Don't  shoot  so  game  a  fellow-man  ! "  called  Lloyd  ;  "  I'll  trip 
him  up  and  take  him  alive." 

As  he  and  they  all  stared  at  this  effigy,  whose  breathing  they 
could  almost  hear  as  it  came  at  full  momentum,  like  a  bull  to  the 
Indian  ambush,  their  flank,  which  they  had  neglected  for  this 
spectacle,  flamed  and  thundered,  and  Lloyd  Ouantrell  turned  his 
head  to  see  the  woods  full  of  blue  blouses  and  charging  men,  and 
to  hear  a  wail  of  anguish  at  his  very  feet,  and  see  his  battalion  rise 
and  rush  from  his  side  in  the  panic  of  demoralization. 

At  the  same  moment  a  pistol  went  off  at  his  own  ear,  and  he 
grappled  with  a  strong  man. 


LLOYD'S  HUNTLNG-PARK. 


427 


Another  human  body  rushed  between,  and  the  pistol  was  again 
discharged. 

Lloyd  seemed  to  be  in  a  burning  house,  and  suffocated. 


He  awoke  in  the  night,  clasped  in  some  one's  arms,  helpless, 
athirst,  and  everywhere  in  pain.  The  air  smelled  of  the  tons  of 
sulphur  shot  into  it  a  whole  day  long,  and  spasmodic  cries  or  dying 
wails,  the  lonely  trumps  of  camps,  or  random  picket  guns,  ascended 
to  the  stars. 

"  Help  !  countrymen  !     Help  !     Oh,  help  ! " 

His  wail  also  had  arisen  among  the  rest,  for  he  felt  like  a  sick 
babe. 

The  person  in  his  arms  relaxed  his  grasp,  and  said : 

"Mosster.?" 

"  O  Ashby  !     Take  me  up,  my  poor  old  friend  !  " 

The  negro's  throat  seemed  to  rattle,  and  he  also  sighed. 

"  God's  took  me  up,  Lloyd  !  I  took  de  las'  shot  Luther  Bosler 
fired  at  you.  De  first  hit  you  and  fetched  you  down.  He's  lyin' 
yer,  too,  wounded  wid  your  sword  :  I  had  to  run  it  in  him — he  was 
so  brave." 

The  negro's  form  seemed  to  stretch,  and  his  lips  to  give  forth 
bubbles.  Lloyd  shouted  for  help  again,  and  this  time  not  for  him- 
self. 

"  Ashby  !     Servant !     O  my  friend  !  " 

"Lloyd,  good-by  !  I'm  a  pore  black  man,  but  I  love  you.  Oh, 
don't  oppress  my  people.  Let  whisky  alone  :  it's  ruinin'  of  you. — 
Daddy — Lm  comin' !  " 

A  long  suction,  a  gap,  and  silence. 

Lloyd  put  out  his  hand  with  pain,  and  the  black  face  was  cold 
with  a  night  dew  that  awaits  no  morning  sun. 

"  Help  !  help  !    Some  water  !     Oh  !  " 

Voices  and  a  lantern  came  near,  and  people  were  heard  speak- 
ing in  old  German.  Soon  there  was  a  cry  of  affection,  and  the 
words,  "  Sohn  !     Bubbelly  !     O  Luter — Bi'm-by." 

"Father,  attend  to  te  people  first  here  at  my  right.  They're 
suffering  te  most.  Give  them  a  drink  of  your  water  and  whisky : 
it's  good,  now." 

A  man  raised  Lloyd's  head  and  pressed  cold  spirits  to  his  lips, 
and  said : 


428  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  Drinksht !     You  was  Yasus'  man,  too." 

"  Jake,  don't  you  know  me  ?  " 

The  man  wiped  Lloyd's  face  and  held  the  lantern  to  his  eyes, 
and  fell  back,  as  in  horror  or  hate, 

"  You  ?  "  he  cried,  "  You  robbed  me  of  my  heilich  dowb,  my 
Katy !  We  fed  you,  and  you  bit  us. — Luter,  te  feind,  te  difel  is  py 
your  side  !    Don't  speak  mit  him.     He  dies  in  hell — Bi'm-by !  " 

Luther  did  not  hear ;  he  had  fainted. 

When  morning  came  upon  the  battle-field,  Ashby  lay  stark  upon 
his  back,  testifying  to  the  spheres,  with  eyeballs  white  as  the  fading 
moon. 

All  day  Lloyd  lay  there  in  delirium,  shouting  unconsciously,  and 
at  night  it  seemed  that  millions  of  lamps  were  moving  over  the  bat- 
tle-plain seeking  out  the  dead.  He  lost  all  sense  of  time  or  place,  or 
ever}'thing  but  torment,  and  only  heard  repeated  the  old  man's  bit- 
ter words  :  "  He  dies  in  hell  bi'm-by  !  " 

He  felt  a  breath  of  cooler  air,  and  heard  a  voice  say : 

"  Lloyd  ! " 

He  was  in  a  boat  upon  a  sort  of  bier,  crossing  a  river,  and  Hugh 
Fen  wick  looked  down  at  him,  saying ; 

"  Dominus  vobiscuni  !  Poor  friend,  I  have  sent  you  to  your  own 
side  of  the  river  !  " 

"  Virginia  ?  Oh,  let  me  stay  in  Maryland  I  I  want  my  wife,  my 
father ! " 

The  boat  grounded  on  the  pebbles  at  Shepherdstown,  and  Quan- 
trell  was  abandoned  to  his  political  environment. 

In  the  long  hospital,  at  Washington,  Luther  Bosler  lay,  with  his 
sister  and  Hannah  Ritner  by  his  cot. 

Hugh  Fenvvick  came  in  to  these,  and  took  Katy's  hand. 
"  Baiedictus,  my  pupil.     Lloyd  Quantrell  is  dead  ! " 


429 


INSTIGA  TION. 
CHAPTER   XL. 

INSTIGATION. 

John  Beall  settled  down  to  milling  in  Iowa  for  a  few  weeks, 
and  saw  nothing  to  his  liking.  The  people  were  earnest  for  their 
country's  support  and  union,  and  suspected  himself  and  his  friends — 
who  came  from  Missouri  and  Kenf-icky,  and  lived  between  the  lines 
— to  have  some  incendiary  project  on  foot.  The  lowans  were  not 
the  undecided  people  who  lived  in  the  Eastern  provinces,  and  when 
they  set  their  fierce  regard  upon  Beall  he  tied  to  Canada.* 

There  sullen  imaginings  he  had  indulged  in  Iowa  were  re-enforced 
by  the  society  of  escaped  prisoners  and  cowardly  fugitives  from 
military  duty,  who  had  taken  into  their  confidence  certain  predatory 
Canadian  Scotch,  ready  with  mechanical  suggestions  or  bloody  foray. 

Beall  had  once  thought  of  starting  an  insurrection  among  the 
Confederate  prisoners  at  Chicago,  but  now  was  persuaded  that  John- 
son's Island  militar}'  prison  was  the  place  to  raid  from  neutral  soil, 
as  it  was  out  in  Lake  Erie,  defended  on  the  water  by  a  small  armed 
boat,  and  in  the  line  of  Canadian  steamships  going  up  the  lakes. 

In  Montreal  the  liquor-dealer,  Martin,  from  Baltimore,  had  estab- 
lished himself  in  a  small  note-shaving  and  war-supply  business. 
He  was  a  man  of  Irish  stock  apparently,  bitter  against  the  flag  of 
Irish  refuge,  and  desperately  intent  on  making  money. 

In  a  retired  room  of  his  lodgings  a  meeting  of  conspirators  was 
held  around  a  singular  piece  of  mechanism,  called  "  The  Hozological 
Torpedo" — an  instrument  to  run  by  weights  for  a  long  given  time, 
when  it  would  explode  a  chemical  preparation.  A  red-haired  Scotch 
merchant  present  explained  that  he  owed  to  a  refugee  college  pro- 
fessor from  Virginia  the  secret  chemical  in  the  apparatus,  while  the 
mechanical  work  was  English,  ordered  and  imported  by  him.  He 
wanted  to  sell  the  incendiary  article  to  the  insurgents,  and  realize  a 
fortune.  John  Beall  spoke  up  to  this  man,  whose  name  was  Keith, 
saying : 

"  I  can't  approve  of  that  method  of  warfare  yet.  You  murder 
innocent  people  by  it  as  indifferently  as  the  guilty.     It  will  destroy  a 

*  "Suspicions  being  aroused  as  to  his  real  character,  through  the  impru- 
dence of  his  friends,  he  was  obliged  to  flee  the  country." — Lucas's  "  Memoir  of 
John  Yates  Beall,"  Montreal,  1S65. 


430  KATY  OF  c A  roc  tin: 

vast  ocean-ship  of  thousands  of  tons  burden,  you  say ;  but  are  the 
innocent  passengers  —  women  and  babes  —  to  be  left  out  of  our 
prayers  ?     The  idea  is  too  monstrous  !  " 

The  moral  sensibility  of  the  Virginia  vestryman  divided  the  sen- 
timent of  the  party.  They  were  bitter,  white-livered  men,  against 
whom  the  war  was  going  hard  everywhere  but  in  Virginia,  and  they 
burned  to  carry  devastation  into  the  new  and  intrepid  West,  which 
had  so  recently  dawned  upon  their  consciousness  as  the  land  of 
Lincoln,  Grant,  Burnside,  Buell,  and  the  Odins  and  Thors  of  the 
forest. 

"  You  will  come  to  it,"  said  Martin,  touching  his  malt  whisky  to 
his  lips,  "  when  the  West  re-elects  Lincoln,  and  pens  your  whole 
Confederacy  up  between  the  AUeghanies  and  the  Potomac.  We 
considered  that  one  Southerner  was  equal  to  three  Yankees,  but  left 
the  West  out  of  our  calculation.  We  have  tried  it  every  way,  and 
can  make  no  impression  upon  it.  You,  Captain  Beall,  know  that  all 
the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle,  Vallandigham  movements,  and 
Kentucky  neutrality  jobs  have  jailed.  Nigger  emancipation  will  be 
accepted,  too.  The  Union  mountaineers  in  Tennessee,  the  Caro- 
linas,  and  Alabama  will  swell  the  Western  Yankee  army.  We  must 
blow  up  all  the  commerce  of  the  Mississippi  Valley  and  the  lakes, 
set  Chicago,  Buffalo,  Detroit,  and  Cleveland  on  fire,  and  light  the 
flames  of  death  and  damnation  in  their  rear  !  " 

Keith,  the  Halifax  Scotchman,  arose  and  toasted  this  sentiment, 
exclaiming : 

"  You  think  anything's  fair,  Martin,  in  war  or  trade  }     So  do  \." 

"What  we  want,"  spoke  Beall,  "is  a  crew  of  Confederate-line 
picked  men,  sent  out  on  a  blockade-runner,  with  a  cool  man  in  com- 
mand, to  ship  here  at  Montreal  for  the  Canadian  mines.  Their 
light  artillery  and  weapons  can  be  shipped  as  freight.  In  Lake  Erie 
they  can  seize  the  steamer,  point  for  Johnson's  Island,  run  down  the 
Yankee  gunboat  there  and  board  her,  and  open  with  artillery  on  the 
stockade.  Eight  thousand  officers  will  join  us  there ;  we  will  seize 
the  shipping  in  Sandusky,  and  attack  every  city  on  the  lakes." 

These  words,  spoken  in  fitful,  smothered  sentences,  out  of  cold 
and  brooding  eyes,  filled  with  gloomy  fanaticism,  alarmed  all  the 
timid  majority  in  the  place.  The  Falstaff  of  the  band  looked  at  the 
door ;  the  banished  statesman  breathed  quick  and  rose  to  go ;  the 
cackler  and  Federal  spy  in  the  party  reached  for  liquor,  and  said 
"  good,"  in  a  thin,  small  voice. 


INSTIGATION.  43 1 

"  Where  is  such  a  leader  to  be  had  ?  "  the  medical  Satan  of  the 
band  inquired. 

"  I  know  a  man  whom  I  shall  ask  to  be  commissioned  for  the 
work,  when  I  reach  Richmond." 

The  door  opened,  and  Booth,  the  actor,  entered,  who  had  been 
moving  between  the  new  oil-regions  about  Buffalo  and  Montreal. 
His  unexpected  coming  alarmed  all  but  Mr.  Beall,  who  greeted  him 
at  first  distantly. 

"  Gentlemen,  don't  be  disturbed,"  said  Booth. — "  I  want  to  see 
you,  Martin,  about  shipping  my  theatrical  wardrobe  on  your  block- 
ade-runner to  one  of  the  Southern  ports.  We  have  a  good  many 
destitute  Maryland  soldiers  in  the  South,  and  I  have  got  a  scheme 
to  go  there  and  play,  to  raise  them  funds." 

He  sat  down  and  talked  about  his  enlisting  against  John  Brown, 
and  restored  the  confidence  of  the  band. 

"  How  will  you  enter  the  Confederacy,  John  ?  "  asked  Beall.  "  I 
must  get  there  some  way.     I  am  poor,  and  broke." 

"  That's  just  what  I  came  to  see  friend  Martin  about.  He  knows 
everybody  in  the  old,  lower  counties  of  Maryland,  and  I  want  some 
letters  to  them.  Oil  is  played  out;  and  I'm  going  out  of  it  and 
into  land." 

Time  passed  along,  and  the  blockade-running  vessel  of  partners 
Keith  and  Martin  went  down  the  St.  Lawrence  River  from  Quebec, 
well  insured,  and  with  the  wardrobe  of  the  actor.  Booth,  on  board. 
In  a  few  days  she  was  found  wrecked  in  the  Canadian  gulf,  and  all 
souls  lost ;  and  Mr.  Martin,  who  was  a  passenger,  perished  from  the 
world. 

Mr.  Keith  had  taken  Mr.  Martin  at  his  word,  and  put  a  hozo- 
logical  torpedo  on  the  vessel,  wound  up  to  explode  at  the  proper 
time  and  spot,  which  would  prove  his  loss  and  recover  the  insurance. 
All  had  been  fair  in  war  and  trade. 

But  Mr.  Booth  kept  the  letters  of  introduction  from  Mr,  Martin 
to  the  old  families  in  Maryland.* 

Booth  relieved  the  necessities  of  Mr.  Beall,  and  they  went  to- 
gether from  Montreal  to  the  United  States. 

The  American  civil  war  had  produced  on  the  Canadian  boundary 

*  Related  to  the  author  by  Marshal  John  P.  Kane,  of  Baltimore,  to  whom 
P.  C.  Martin  gave  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Booth.  Ten  years  later,  Keith, 
under  the  false  name  of  Thomassen,  blew  up  an  ocean-steamship  at  Bremen  in 
time  of  peace,  to  recover  insurance,  and  died  of  the  wounds  he  received. 


432 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


a  similar  demoralization  to  that  already  described  as  latent  on  the 
lower  Potomac,  and  Canada  was  long  plagued  by  raids,  and  was 
altered  in  political  character  through  her  jealousy  of  the  great  re- 
public, and,  perhaps,  of  the  sentiment  of  President  Lincoln,  that 
slavery  and  the  divine  right  of  kings  were  "  the  same  principle  "  ;  * 
and  twenty  years  after  the  United  States  came  to  peace,  Canada 
was  hanging  her  rebellious  Riels  and  other  scions  of  seventeenth- 
century  superstition. 

Beall  and  Booth  were  both  individual  and  secretive  men,  and 
something  mutual  on  their  minds  caused  them  to  cross  the  frontier, 
without  any  conference,  at  another  than  the  usual  route.  Booth  held 
the  purse,  and  he  directed  the  travel,  guided  into  the  wilderness  of 
New  York  by  his  gypsy  love  of  wandering. 

They  came  one  afternoon  to  a  solemn  spot  in  the  Adirondack 
Mountains,  where  a  cabin  on  a  hill-side  looked  out  upon  a  mighty 
amphitheatre  of  peaks,  and  in  a  neighboring  gorge  the  adjacent 
springs  ran  into  the  river  Hudson  and  the  St.  Lawrence  lakes — 
systems  spanning  in  their  flow  nearly  all  America  that  was  free. 

Near  the  cottage-door  stood  a  great  rock,  and  beside  it  was  an 
old  scarred  tombstone,  dense  with  inscriptions,  of  which  one  said  : 

"JOHN    BROWN, 

Born  May  9,  1800, 

Was  executed  at  Charlestown,  Va., 

Dec.  2,  1859." 

Three  slain  sons  and  the  father  of  John  Brown  lay  here  beside 
him,  in  the  solitude  of  the  oldest  mountains  on  the  globe,  at  the 
earliest  birth  of  human  life  in  the  forest,  and  the  pioneers  of  freedom. 

Booth  said  to  Beall,  as  they  read  the  inscriptions,  in  silence,  of 
the  Revolutionary  father,  the  executed  son,  and  the  devoted  grand- 
sons : 

"  Has  this  man  ever  lost  his  influence  over  you,  John  ?  " 

"  Never ! " 

"  Nor  over  me.  His  proclamation  of  war  has  become  in  Lin- 
coln's act  the  law  of  the  land.  He  reached  in  a  campaign  of  thirty- 
three  hours  a  fame  that  will  last  forever,  if  the  slave  States  are  to  be 
beaten." 

*  "  It  is  the  same  spirit  that  says,  '  You  work,  and  toil,  and  earn  bread, 
and  I'll  eat  it.'  "—Lincoln's  speech  at  Alton,  1858. 


INS  TIG  A  TION. 


433 


"  All  is  not  lost  yet,"  affirmed  Beall,  with  intensity. 

"  Lincoln  is  the  tyrant  of  the  South,"  spoke  Booth,  returning  to 
his  old  dramatic  manner.     "  What  is  he  worth  to  us  }  " 

"  Nothing,  I  reckon." 

"  Not  as  hostage  ?  " 

"  No.     I  saw  in  the  West  hundreds  of  men  just  like  him." 

"  I  will  take  you  to  see  him,"  said  Booth. 

They  reached  the  city  of  Washington  in  a  few  days — Beall  in 
the  uniform  of  a  Federal  lieutenant ;  and  the  actor,  his  friend,  ac- 
quainted with  everybody,  and  vouching  for  the  silent  stranger.  In 
that  capital  of  an  enlightening  idea,  Hke  the  new  star  over  Beth- 
lehem's shamble,  malignant  suspicions  of  strangers  did  not  exist ; 
and,  to  further  protect  his  friend.  Booth  put  him  under  the  social 
care  of  Senator  Pittson's  family. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  secret,  John,"  said  Booth.  "  Light  Pittson  is 
my  affianced  wife." 

The  National  Hotel  was  the  center  of  the  new  Western  society  at 
the  capital,  and  there  Booth  and  the  Pittsons  had  long  been  boarders ; 
and  the  fine,  impulsive  daughter  of  the  senator  had  attracted  the 
fatal  regard  of  the  dark-eyed  and  insidious  actor. 

He  sometimes  appeared  upon  the  stage  in  Washington  to  oblige 
a  friend  at  a  benefit,  and  Light  saw  his  almost  glittering  face  and 
trim,  powerful  figure,  in  classical  or  melodramatic  characters ;  but 
she  saw  him  oftener  in  recitations  in  the  private  rooms  of  the  hotel, 
where  he  controlled  many  a  wild  army  blade  or  family  of  an  absent 
officer,  and  was  the  poetical  character  of  that  crowded  house. 

He  caused  it  to  be  understood  that  he  had  made  a  fortune  specu- 
lating in  oil  lands  and  wells — a  development  in  American  nature 
contemporaneous  with  the  loss  of  cotton  and  slaves — as  if  abun- 
dance and  compensation  were  the  returns  for  doing  right. 

Booth  was  universally  considered  a  fortunate  and  retired  man, 
no  longer  subject  to  the  imputation  of  his  profession,  social  and 
handsome  ;  and  if  looked  upon  adversely  by  prudent  mothers,  he  was 
the  exciting  principle  in  many  a  daughter's  heart,  who  could  not 
separate  artificial  from  real  heroism. 

Maidens  with  fathers  at  the  front  of  war,  and  foolish  or  unprin- 
cipled wives  whose  husbands  were  in  ships  on  blockading  or  cruis- 
ing service,  or  upon  the  military  staff,  felt  the  dark  wizardry  of  his 
eyes,  his  confidential,  low  tone,  and  the  touch  of  a  hand  daring  in 
its  mingled  respect  and  familiarity. 
19 


434 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


He  had  measured  the  virtue  of  the  world  by  the  stage,  and  con- 
sidered himself  of  a  theatrical  and  political  aristocracy.  His  father 
he  supposed  to  have  been  the  relative  of  lord  mayors  and  great  pub- 
lic men,  and  the  noblest  figure  on  the  British  stage.  His  pride  was 
greater  than  his  assertion  of  it ;  for,  like  many  people  in  the  weaker 
professions  of  belles-lettres,  he  had  no  capacity  for  facts  or  affairs, 
and  applied  the  scale  of  superficial  art  to  everything.  He  could  no 
longer  study  even  the  plays  with  conscientious  devotion.  Too  early 
success  in  acting,  and  admiration,  flattery,  and  worldly  lusts,  had 
made  him  one  of  the  most  self-contained  idiots  in  Washington. 

There  stood  the  powerful  fiber  of  an  athlete,  the  exterior  of  a 
gentleman,  and  the  apparent  descent  of  genius,  without  discipline, 
humility,  or  much  realit3%  deceiving  himself  and  everj'body. 

The  fabric  was  false  in  everything  but  headstrong  pride,  and  by 
his  physical  exercise  he  was  dangerous.  He  could  whip  almost  any 
man  he  met  with  his  fists  ;  he  excelled  in  arms  and  the  g}'mnasium  ; 
yet  he  had  no  conception  of  the  regularity  and  honor  of  war,  and 
the  brute  in  his  nature  did  not  permit  the  soldier  to  enter  there. 
Thus,  in  the  Rome  of  the  New  World,  he  was  a  mere  gladiator  un- 
der the  delusions  of  a  patrician. 

He  knew  nothing  of  international  law  and  obligations,  nor  of  the 
moral  tone  of  mankind,  and  supposed  that  a  boundary-line  stopped 
at  once  pursuit  and  public  opinion. 

How  much  slavery,  and  how  much  an  intemperate,  possibly  in- 
sane descent,  aggravated  this  precocity  of  self-will,  may  be  inferred. 

He  had  attended  school  with  some  of  the  rising  young  insur- 
gent chiefs,  and  yearned  to  rank  with  them  in  prominence ;  and  the 
idea  that  liberty  included  black  people  was  atheism  to  him.  Un- 
questionably a  victim  of  the  slave  code,  whence  came  his  brutal 
part,  he  was  also  derived  from  the  more  intemperate  and  reckless 
years  of  a  father  who  had  lived  upon  the  consuming  fire  of  an  inade- 
quate and  unprincipled  genius.* 

Republican  surroundings  had  given  this  scion  of  the  English 
actor  a  high  sensibility  as  to  his  descent,  intensified  by  the  homage 
of  schoolboys  and  gossips,  and  obscurer-born  actors,  and  the  only 

*  "  During  this  tour  (1835),  the  calamity,  which  seemed  to  increase  in 
streng:th  and  frequency  with  maturer  years,  assumed  many  singfular  phases. 
Wlien  his  habits  were  the  most  temperate  and  abstemious  (in  youth),  we  occa- 
sionally find  those  slight  aberrations  of  mind  .  .  .  between  genius  and  mad- 
ness."—The  elder  Booth's  "  Life,"  by  his  daughter. 


IXSTIGA  TION. 


435 


liberty  he  understood  was  slaveholders'  privileges.  His  political 
faith  was  that  "  all  abolitionists  ought  to  be  hanged,"  while  yet  he 
howled  "  liberty  "  on  the  stage  with  such  circus  feats  as  cleared  the 
good  seats,  and  finally  satisfied  the  gallery ;  and  once  he  managed 
a  rude  little  theatre  in  Washington,  playing  his  father's  most  violent 
parts  to  little  advantage. 

There  was  mixed  with  Booth's  cool  self-appreciation  a  derived 
passion  to  get  along  well  in  the  world.  He  had,  therefore,  picked 
up  a  smattering  of  speculative  talk,  and  used  about  six  thousand 
dollars  of  his  savings,  from  Southern  acting,  in  oil  lands  and  ex- 
ploitings ;  but  he  wasted  in  country  amours  the  time  he  had  designed 
for  that  commerce,  and  was  now  thinking  of  something  between 
acting  and  speculation  to  raise  money  and  fame  at  a  sudden  bound, 
for  he  was  growing  poor. 

Thus  he  professed  to  be  rich  for  social  influence,  and  the  social 
influence  he  exerted  upon  the  managers  of  theatres,  while  all  these 
pretenses  were  fraudulent.  He  was  neither  independent,  nor  an 
artist,  nor  a  gentleman,  nor  intelligent  enough  to  pilot  himself 
through  those  false  situations  without  losing  some  portion  of  his  co- 
herence. 

A  treacherous  deed  of  some  kind  he  had  in  view,  and  already  it 
began  to  draw  him  into  abstraction  and  dissipation.  He  did  not 
know  what  it  might  be ;  but  it  was  to  deceive  one  population  and 
become  a  hero  in  another — to  take  a  wife,  at  least,  out  of  the  North, 
and  money  out  of  the  South,  and  be  some  kind  of  a  Junius  Brutus 
or  Claude  Duval. 

Senator  Pittson  took  Booth  and  his  friend  Beall  to  the  Presi- 
dent's house ;  he  liked  Booth  rather  the  more,  that  he  seemed  to 
solicit  nothing. 

The  President,  that  morning,  was  expecting  some  embassador, 
foreign  general,  or  prince,  and  the  doors  were  closed  to  the  public ; 
but  the  President  himself  came  out  in  the  hall,  hearing  Senator  Pitt- 
son's  voice,  and  told  him  to  use  the  time  till  it  should  be  required, 
and  to  bring  his  young  friends  in. 

They  entered  the  chamber  of  emancipation. 

"And  this  is  the  son  of  Booth,  the  actor .>  My  eloquent  young 
friend,  I  have  seen  you  act :  it  was  a  little  robust ;  but  artistic 
progress,  I  have  noticed,  is  from  the  robust  toward  the  trained  ;  and 
if  there  is  nothing  strong  in  a  horse,  training  him  seldom  comes  to 
much.     My  robust  generals,  I  think,  will  get  the  science  of  the 


436 


A'ATY  OF  CA  roc  TIN. 


thing  some  day ;  but,  ah  ! — if  my  scientific  generals  would  only  be 
a  little  more  robust !  " 

As  President  Lincoln  spoke,  he  looked  out  of  the  window  upon 
the  new-made  forts  encircling  his  capital,  without  whose  ramparts 
the  insurgents  were  even  now  conscripting  to  make  up  the  losses  of 
Antietam.  A  look  of  pain  crossed  his  face,  which  also  wore  the  age 
of  his  responsibility.  He  was  dressed  in  fine  broadcloth,  and,  stand- 
ing six  feet  four,  looked  dignified  in  ever)'  inch. 

"  Lieutenant,"  he  said  to  Beall,  "  where  were  you  wounded  }  In 
Kentucky  }  Tell  me,  how  does  my  native  State  take  my  proclama- 
tion of  emancipation  }  " 

"  Not  favorably,  Mr.  President." 

"  So  I  fear ;  but  its  benefits  will  set  the  intellect  of  the  South 
free,  and  I  believe  that  the  Southern  head  is  the  best  natural  head 
we  have.  That  is  the  head  I  carry — one  of  the  poorest  specimens, 
I  suspect — but  if  I  could  confer  a  great  blessing  on  my  old  kin  and 
tribes,  it  would  be  to  give  them  some  of  the  free  air  and  joy  of  look- 
ing back  at  slavery  from  the  other  side.  Slowly  I  have  progressed 
that  way — perhaps  God  has  led  me  along — and  the  mind  grows  con- 
fident in  it,  like  jealousy  dismissed  from  a  husband's  spirit,  when 
a  prejudice  against  the  wife  of  his  bosom  has  been  fully  dispelled. 
The  world  wants  self-restraint ;  but  restraining  others  m  what 
God  gave  them  breaks  all  habits  down.  Sweet  will  be  the  scene, 
some  day,  of  freedom  in  the  cotton  as  in  the  corn ;  but  better  yet 
when  the  reign  of  intolerance  is  gone  from  the  ruling  mind,  and 
the  master's  intellect  is  released  to  humility,  fraternity,  and  knowl- 
edge." 

Beall  looked  up  at  Mr.  Lincoln  out  of  pinched  eyes,  as  if  at 
some  social  inferior  in  a  pulpit,  but  Booth  remarked  : 

"  Oh !  the  States  in  rebellion  must  lay  down  their  arms,  and  the 
abolitionists  accept  your  policy,  Mr.  President  ;  then  we  will  have 
the  Constitution  and  Union  again." 

The  President  looked  at  Booth  considerately,  and  said  : 

"  To  me  it  would  not  matter  long  if  the  Union  could  be  restored 
with  slavery  still  milking  at  its  breast ;  but  you,  with  many  years 
before  you,  would  receive  the  benefits  of  a  more  complete  revolu- 
tion, and  for  your  sake,  and  yours,  my  gallant  young  friend  "  (to 
Beall),  "  I  accept,  with  a  sorrow  which  is  not  dissatisfaction,  the  be- 
lief that  the  war  will  be  long." 

His  shoulders  somewhat  stooped,  like  one  receiving  a  burden  for 


INSTIGA  TION. 


437 


a  long  up-hill  walk ;  but  he  looked  right  onward,  with  expressive, 
dark-gray  eyes  slightly  elevated,  and  the  curious,  puckered  lines 
around  his  mouth  and  chin  strengthened,  and  the  square-cut  beard 
of  the  jaw  and  chin  meeting  the  square  of  the  temple  locks  and 
crown-mane,  formed  three  inflexible  sides  of  a  square ;  and  the 
well-cut  nose  and  angle  of  the  cheek-bones  receiving  the  light  of  his 
purpose  to  go  on  with  the  geometry,  made  Senator  Pittson  say  : 

"  You  will  live  to  square  it — yes,  to  cube  it." 

The  President  turned  to  Mr.  Booth  and  put  his  hand  upon  his 
arm,  with  an  open,  country  look  of  his  substantial  mouth,  while  his 
stiff,  black  hair  seemed  to  soften,  and  his  heavily  marked  eyebrows 
to  take  the  light  of  his  smile. 

"  Booth,  give  me  a  little  Shakespeare  !  Do  you  believe  Shake- 
peare  wrote  his  own  works  }  They  say  Seward  writes  all  my  mes- 
sages." 

This  last  remark  was  caused  by  the  Secretary  of  State  entering, 
to  be  ready  to  present  the  expected  notabilities.  He  was  introduced 
to  the  young  men,  and  joined  in  the  talk  with  address  and  merri- 
ment shining  up  a  somewhat  faded  face. 

Booth  had  been  studying  Marc  Antony,  to  make  an  appearance 
soon  with  his  two  elder  actor  brothers  in  New  York — of  whom  the 
only  distinguished  one  was  to  vote  for  President  Lincoln's  re-elec- 
tion— and  John  Booth  rehearsed  : 

"  I  come  to  bury  Caesar,  not  to  praise  him. 

When  that  the  poor  have  cried,  Caesar  hath  wept : 
Ambition  should  be  made  of  sterner  stuff: 

But  here's  a  parchment,  with  the  seal  of  Csesar  :  .  ,  . 
Let  but  the  commons  hear  his  testament,   .  .  . 
And  they  would  go  and  kiss  dead  Ccesar's  wounds, 
And  dip  their  napkins  in  his  sacred  blood  ; 
Yea,  beg  a  hair  of  him  for  memory. 

Oh,  what  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymen  ! 
Then  I,  and  you,  and  all  of  us  fell  down, 
While  bloody  treason  flourished  over  us." 

Mr.  Lincoln  clapped  his  hands,  and  made  Mr.  Seward  shake 
hands  with  the  reciter,  and  cried  : 

"  Ah !  Billy  wrote  Shakespeare.     Some  say  he  wasn't  educated 


438 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


enough  ;  but  there's  poor  white  knowledge  in  Billy,  that  Lord  Bacon 
wouldn't  have  had.  Whenever  I  heard  anything  original  at  the  Illi- 
nois bar,  it  was  from  a  poor  fellow  who  read  his  law  books  under 
the  shade  of  a  tree  where  he  stopped  after  he  had  borrowed  them. 
He  would  give  us  law  and  anecdotes,  and  use  as  bad  law  and  as 
good  human  nature  as  Portia  or  Imogen." 
The  President  began  from  Imogen  : 

"  I  see  a  man's  life  is  a  tedious  one. 

Plenty  and  peace  breed  cowards  ;  hardness  ever 
Of  hardiness  is  the  mother." 

The  expected  guests  had  been  delayed,  and  the  President  went 
on  reciting  from  Shakespeare  at  many  points,  seeming  to  have  a 
knowledge  of  all  his  works,  and  inviting  Booth  to  "  come  on  "  with 
something  better. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  President,"  spoke  the  actor,  giving  Mr.  Lincoln  all  his 
rich,  dark,  beaming  face  to  enjoy,  "  if  I  could  only  commit  my  parts 
as  you  can  commit  everything  !  " 

"  Shakespeare,  my  eloquent  young  friend,"  replied  the  President, 
"  is  always  wise  and  lovely,  but  Burns  was  the  poet  of  the  people. 
Shakespeare  seems  to  teach  you,  but  Burns  to  eat  with  you  and  sleep 
in  your  bed." 

He  started  Burns  with — 

"  Then  let  us  pray,  that  come  it  may, 
(As  come  it  will  for  a'  that). 
That  Sense  and  Worth,  o'er  a'  the  earth, 
Shall  bear  the  gree,  an'  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  an'  a'  that. 
It's  comin'  yet  for  a'  that, 
That  man  to  man,  the  world  o'er, 
Shall  brothers  be  for  a'  that." 

"Seward,"  said  the  President,  "don't  you  wish  a  man  like  Bums 
was  the  foreign  minister  of  England  ?  But  we  have  friends  wher- 
ever that  poetry  is  believed,  and,  I  think,  nowhere  else — not  even 
here." 

The  President  continued  to  conduct  himself  like  a  boy  among 
boys,  showing  that  he  knew  Burns  "  by  heart,"  as  he  said  ;  and  his 
heart  and  merriment  recited  together,  until  it  was  announced  that 
the  notabilities  were  coming. 


INS  TIG  A  TION. 


459 


"  Before  we  go,  Mr.  President,"  said  Senator  Pittson,  "  I  want  to 
ask  you  for  a  pass  for  Mr.  Beall — it  was  always  pronounced  Bell^ 
to  visit  some  kin  in  lower  Maryland." 

"  Oh !  the  provost  can  give  him  that — however,  Pittson,  here  is 
my  card." 

The  President  wrote  on  it,  and  spelled  the  name  "  Bell.  "  The 
pass  was  without  limit  as  to  time. 

As  they  arose  to  go,  they  saw  the  strange  princes  enter  with 
their  ministers,  and  the  Secretary  of  State  introduce  the  President, 
in  the  elegant  room  set  for  that  purpose,  and  Lincoln  wore  the 
dignity  and  stature  of  a  natural  monarch. 

At  the  portal,  going  out.  Booth  and  Beall  stumbled  upon  two 
men— one  bleached,  large-eyed,  and  walking  on  a  crutch  ;  the  other 
smaller,  and  wearing  spectacles. 

"  Mr.  Stanton,  good-morning,"  said  Booth  to  the  last. 

"  Good-morning  Mr.  John  Booth,  and  Mr.  John  Beall,"  spoke 
the  other  tall  and  invalid  man.  "When  did  you,  Mr.  Beall,  lay 
down  your  arms  ?  " 

"  Oh,  some  time  ago,  Major  Luther  Bosler,"  replied  Booth  ;  "  he's 
all  right  now,  and  has  the  President's  pass." 

"The  President's  pass,"  spoke  the  war  minister  sternly,  "is  no 
pass  at  all.  What  right  have  you,  as  a  good  citizen,  to  take  up  our 
kind  magistrate's  time  with  giving  passes  against  his  own  safety 
and  ours  } — Major  Bosler,  have  this  man  report  at  the  war  office 
to-day ! " 

He  pointed  to  Beall  and  passed  in. 

"  We  will  go  to  the  National  Hotel,  where  we  stop,  and  meet  you 
there — Luther,"  spoke  Booth. 

"  There  are  other  things  I  may  want  to  see  you  for  when  I 
come,"  remarked  Luther  Bosler,  slowly,  looking  them  both  gravely 
over. 

He  passed  into  the  President's  mansion. 

Booth  stopped  a  passing  cab  and  bade  the  driver  go  hard  to  his 
hotel. 

"  You  are  in  a  tight  place,  John,"  he  said,  "  but  their  police  sys- 
tem is  very  loose,  and  I  can  get  you  out." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  repHed  Beall ;  "  why,  any  assassin  could 
reach  Abe  Lincoln's  side.  I  believe  he  could  be  run  out  of  this 
city  on  his  own  pass  and  delivered  up  in  Richmond." 

Booth  sat  back  in  the  carriage  pale  and  silent ;  they  were  both 


440 


KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 


excited,  for  the  gallows  might  be  very  close  to  Captain  Beall  and 
the  Old  Capitol  Prison  close  to  Mr.  Booth. 

They  reached  the  hotel  and  passed  to  Booth's  room  on  an  upper 
floor.  He  threw  out  to  Beall  a  suit  of  countrymen's  clothes  and  a 
false  whisker. 

"  Actor's  wardrobe,"  explained  Booth,  carelessly.  "  Here  is  Abe 
Lincoln's  pass.     What  did  you  think  of  him .'' " 

"  Coarse  chuck,  but  all  intellect.  That's  the  way  with  this  North  : 
it  isn't  much  for  stock,  or  manners,  or  disinterestedness,  but  it  runs 
to  brain  like  the  cauliflower  to  a  head." 

"John  Beall,"  said  the  actor,  all  flushed  and  with  compressed 
features,  "  that  man  is  the  most  cunning  fanatic  and  hypocrite  in 
the  world.  See  how  he  read  Shakespeare  !  I  want  you  to  lift  up 
your  right  hand  and  swear  to  me  that  you  will  never  use  for  your- 
self, without  my  knowledge  and  control,  the  idea  you  just  now  ex- 
pressed." 

"  What  idea  ?  " 

"  That  old  Abe  Lincoln  can  be  abducted  from  Washington  and 
carried  to  Richmond." 

"  Pshaw  !    It  was  a  mere  reflection.    Nobody  would  attempt  it." 

"  Swear ! "  hissed  Booth  ;  "  swear,  or  you  shall  not  leave  this 
city ! " 

"You're  mad,  I  reckon."     Beall  finished  his  toilet. 

"  That's  the  idea  I  had  at  the  grave  of  John  Brown,  when  I 
asked  you  what  Lincoln  would  be  worth  as' a  hostage.  Then  I  had 
never  seen  him  in  his  household  as  we  have  to-day.  Your  reflec- 
tion has  confirmed  my  idea  and  observation,  and  I  want  to  pre- 
empt it  here.  Swear  that  you  will  acknowledge  me  the  author  of 
the  proposition  to  abduct  Abraham  Lincoln  !  " 

"  Why,  certainly  ;  and  that  you're  a  fool,  too." 

Beall  held  up  his  hand  and  removed  his  old  white  slouched  hat. 

Booth  clasped  him  in  his  arms  and  whispered  : 

"My  fortune's  made!  I'll  carry  the  Yankee  Washington  and 
show  him  all  over  the  South  as  a  feature  of  my  star  engagement. 
By  God  !  I'll  make  him  recite  Shakespeare,  and  pay  him  a  salary 
or  shares.  I  want  you  to  make  the  secret  proposition  for  me  to  the 
Confederate  President  when  you  reach  Richmond.  The  man  I 
shall  ask  for  to  conduct  the  enterprise  is — " 

"  Not  Lloyd  Quantrell }  " 

"  The  very  man  !  " 


GRASS    IVIDOiVS.  44 1 

"  Why  that's  the  man  I  want  sent  to  Canada  to  command  my 
expedition." 

"  Let  him  choose  between  us,"  spoke  Booth.  "  He  is  under 
oath  to  us,  since  John  Brown's  raid,  to  revenge  the  South,  and  we'll 
kill  him  if  he  shirks  his  vow  !  " 

"Come,"  said  Beall,  looking  with  pinched  wonder  at  Booth's 
demoniac  face,  as  he  stood  with  a  great  knife  unclasped,  and  blaz- 
ing eyes,  like  Shylock  starting  to  cut  Antonio's  heart's  flesh  out. 

When  they  descended  the  stairs,  Major  Luther  Bosler  was  seen 
by  the  front  door  of  the  hotel. 

"  Come  by  the  back  way,"  said  Booth.     "  I'll  get  you  out." 

He  whispered  to  a  hotel  clerk,  who  conducted  them  through 
some  kitchen  apartments  to  a  large,  hollow,  stable  court,  out  of 
which  ran  two  alleys,  but  not  in  line  with  each  other.  Taking  the 
alley  to  the  left,  they  entered  a  quiet  street  in  the  rear  of  the  hotel, 
where  two  common  inns  stood  among  livery-stables. 

"  This  farther  tavern,"  said  Booth,  "  is  the  stage-office  for  Port 
Tobacco  and  Leonardtown.  Go  in  there  and  take  a  room,  and 
leave  Washington  by  the  next  stage.  You  have  the  highest  pass  in 
the  land.     Remember  !  " 

Booth  went  around  the  corner  of  the  National  Hotel,  and,  enter- 
ing the  front  door  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  met  Senator  Pittson 
and  Luther  Bosler  talking  in  the  hotel  lobby. 

"Mr.  Beall  has  gone  to  his  people  in  the  Valley,"  Booth  said. 
"  Friend  Bosler  was  not  too  polite  with  him." 

"  Mr.  Booth,"  spoke  Edgar  Pittson,  quietly,  "  I  forbid  your 
further  visits  to  my  daughter." 


CHAPTER   XLL 
GRASS  WIDOWS. 

Jake  Bosler  would  have  been  lonely  and  heart-broken  from 
Katy's  loss,  but  that  his  son  had  become  a  great  man  about  the 
government,  and  had  given  him  honest  employment  in  such  wide 
measure  that  he  was  growing  rich. 

Thousands  of  horses  the  old  man  bought  among  the  Dunkers 
of  the  East  and  West  and  sold  them  at  the  regulation  price  in  Balti- 


442  A'ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 

more.  The  mighty  war  minister  gave  a  few  Marylanders  his  trust 
absolutely,  and  of  them  was  John  W.  Garrett,  the  railroad  presi- 
dent, who  shifted  armies  on  his  road,  and  Luther  Bosler,  the  Bun- 
ker, who  had  now  sealed  his  convictions  with  his  blood. 

He  was  to  Mr.  Stanton  like  both  conscience  and  an  orderly 
sergeant,  a  loyal  reprover  of  his  errors  and  the  silent  dragoon  of 
his  secret  errands.  He  was  hated,  of  course,  but  ambition  in  him 
was  regulated  by  religion.  He,  also,  honestly  thrived  in  the  oppor- 
tunities of  the  time,  with  his  natural  genius  for  business  and  the 
clairvoyant  power  of  fair-dealing. 

"  O  Luter,  'tis  money  is  for  nopody  now,"  Jake  Bosler  said. 
"  Nelly  is  gone  ;  you  has  no  child  ;  I  haf  no  Katy." 

The  grievous  war  went  on,  with  the  sky  in  the  West  always 
light,  and  at  last  the  West  sent  her  simple  captain  to  the  East,  to 
wrestle  with  the  mutilated  hydra's  head.  He  brought  a  friend  to 
clean  up  that  side-aisle,  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  through  which 
the  heir  of  General  Washington  had  carried  the  army  of  slavery  a 
second  time  into  the  German  settlements,  to  meet  his  defeat  on  the 
sources  of  the  Monocacy  among  the  "  nest-hidings  "  of  Hannah 
Ritner  and  Abel  Quantrell. 

The  new  general  in  the  Valley  burned  the  barns  and  mills  which 
had  supplied  the  devastating  insurrection  with  food  ;  and  in  retalia- 
tion Chambersburg  was  raided  and  burned,  greatly  to  the  joy  of 
bandits,  who  remembered  that  John  Brown  had  made  it  his  base  of 
supplies. 

As  Brown  had  been  the  pilot  of  Freedom  through  these  valleys, 
a  Logan  of  the  slave-catchers  was  the  pilot  of  a  hundred  thousand 
insurgents,  through  his  native  scenes  about  Snow  Hill,  to  Gettysburg. 

From  that  great  battle-field  Hannah  Ritner  brought  an  insurgent 
prisoner  by  the  name  of  Powell  to  Baltimore,  and  set  him  to  work  in 
the  hospitals.  He  v/as  the  same  young  Floridian  whom  Booth  had 
encountered  at  Charlestown. 

The  last  campaign  of  the  enemy  across  the  Potomac  was  by  the 
slavery  candidate  for  President  of  the  United  States  ;  *  his  adversary 
was  dead,  and  Mr.  Lincoln  had  become  the  central  character  of 
history.  This  disappointed  man,  whose  loyal  uncle  had  presided 
over  the  convention  to  renominate  Abraham  Lincoln  in  Baltimore, 
fought  a  battle  near  Frederick  City,  burned  houses  in  the  outskirts 

*  Breckenridge. 


GJiASs  ir/Bows.  443 

of  Washington,  and  paraded  his  troops  before  one  of  the  forts,  and 
then  the  rebellion  fell  back  from  the  Potomac  forever,  and  Rich- 
mond was  beleaguered  amid  its  ghosts  and  crimes. 

The  witnesses  of  John  Brown's  deed  and  death  were  in  their 
graves :  Stuart,  killed  at  Yellow  Tavern,  Stonewall  Jackson  at.  Chan- 
cellorsville,  General  Ashby  in  the  Valley.  Booth  thought  of  all 
this  with  a  lonely,  savage  soul,  when  he  received  Beall  s  letter  by 
the  secret  mail. 

"  Dear  Sir  :  I  waited  on  the  Secretary  of  War  at  Richmond 
with  your  proposition ;  he  was  disposed  to  favor  it,  but  our  Presi- 
dent set  his  foot  on  it.  Lincoln,  he  said,  might  be  killed  in  the  at- 
tempt, and  that  would  inflict  a  permanent  stain  upon  our  reputa- 
tion in  the  eyes  of  the  world  ;  and,  besides,  he  would  not  know  what 
to  do  with  Lincoln  if  he  had  him,  and  a  worse  man  would  then  be 
President,*  and  hang  everybody  he  had  hated.  The  Cabinet  is 
nervous  about  reprisals  in  case  they  approve  a  brigand  war  near 
Lincoln's  person. 

"  I  asked  permission  to  destroy  the  enemy's  commerce,  and  it 
was  given  me  with  reluctance.  I  asked  Quantrell  to  be  ordered  to 
join  me,  and  discovered  him  dangerously  wounded  in  a  hospital. 
He  wanted  to  pray  with  me,  and  denounced  our  methods  of  war. 

"  So  I  burned  a  good  many  vessels  on  the  Eastern  Shore  of 
Maryland  and  made  some  booty ;  have  been  captured,  and  was 
threatened  with  execution  as  a  pirate  and  a  spy  ;  but  our  govern- 
ment put  some  of  the  finest  Yankee  officers  on  bread  and  water,  and 
threatened  to  execute  them  all,  if  I  was  not  exchanged. 

"  I  am  not  appreciated  at  my  true  valuation  here  in  Richmond, 
where  self-seeking  influence  and  conservatism  prevail,  as  in  all  gov- 
ernments, and  I  am  going  to  desert  and  return,  by  the  help  of  Lin- 
coln's pass,  through  Maryland  to  Canada,  where  I  shall  try  to  an- 
ticipate this  government,  which,  I  have  reason  to  believe,  means  to 
use  my  idea  about  capturing  Johnson's  Island  for  its  own  glory.  I 
will  not  be  robbed  of  my  patent  like  that !  Secret  and  extraordi- 
nary service  agrees  with  my  nature,  but  I  can  not  serve  where  I  am 
a  cipher. 

*  The  son  of  Albert  Sidney  Johnston  told  the  author  that  a  relative  of 
Zachary  Taylor,  who  had  visited  Mr.  Lincoln  surreptitiously,  made  the  propo- 
sition as  above,  to  the  insurgent  President,  and  met  with  the  answer  in  this 
story. 


444 


A'ATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  Your  idea  would  be  popular  with  our  people  if  you  could  carry 
it  to  a  successful  result,  which  I  very  much  doubt.  I  shall  keep  my 
oath— to  revenge  the  South  and  invade  her  invaders.        Beall." 

Booth  read  this  letter  off  by  a  cipher-key  he  possessed — a  cylin- 
der of  printed  letters  from  which  a  pointer,  shifted  in  a  frame,  se- 
lected the  letters  meant  for  those  written.  The  same  cipher  was  in 
the  rebel  war  minister's  office.  Booth  and  Beall  had  obtained  mod- 
els of  it  in  Canada. 

The  bravo  finished  the  letter  with  fury.  They  had  not  even  re- 
membered him  in  Richmond,  where  he  was  so  great  a  favorite.  His 
self-esteem  was  wounded,  and  his  funds,  which  he  had  designed  to 
replenish  by  this  feat  of  abducting  the  President,  were  down  to  a 
few  hundred  dollars. 

He  must  resume  acting,  much  as  he  hated  steady  occupation, 
and  he  had  no  status  in  the  North. 

He  locked  up  his  effects,  took  five  hundred  dollars  in  his  wallet, 
and  started  for  Montreal. 

As  he  walked  through  the  ladies'  parlor  of  the  National  Hotel, 
in  the  twilight  of  evening,  a  single  person  sat  there  by  the  window, 
and  she  looked  up  and  saw  his  white,  fierce  face. 

"  O  Mr.  Booth,  what  is  the  matter?  " 

"  Miss  Pittson,  excuse  me ;  you  can  have  no  interest  in  me.  I 
am  forbid  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Who  could  have  injured  you  in  papa's  estimation,  sir  ?  You 
were  such  a  true  friend — so  generous,  with  such  a  sense  of  romance, 
that  all  acting  and  loving,  too,  seem  tame  since  you  have  become  a 
stranger." 

"  Dear  Light,  I  thought  you  felt  for  me.  My  country  is  beaten, 
and  here  in  Maryland,  where  I  am  a  native,  all  to  whom  I  am  can- 
did upon  my  political  feelings  suspect  me.  It  is  the  Dutch  Hessian, 
Bosler,  the  tool  of  that  devil,  Stanton,  who  has  caused  your  father 
to  insult  me  !  " 

"  Surely  not ;  he  is  so  mild.  Next  to  you,  I  esteemed  him  my 
noblest  friend." 

"  Light " — he  had  taken  her  hand  and  drawn  her  within  the 
darkness  of  the  window-curtains — "  can  you  love  a  poor  rebel,  with- 
out a  country,  with  no  other  home  than  his  genius  can  find,  but  that 
home  certain  if  you  will  fly  to  it,  and  be  his  friend  }  Oh,  I  am  so 
much  forjrotten,  so  desolate  !  " 


GRASS   IVIDOIVS.  445 

He  assumed  the  tones  and  hyperbole  of  the  stage,  and  drew  her 
large,  impetuous  frame  close  to  his  eyes,  which  seemed  to  make 
room  by  their  blackness  in  the  dark. 

"  I  feel  for  your  defeat  in  battle,"  she  said  ;  "  I  sympathize  with 
the  brave.     I  will  go  with  you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  ! " 

The  sense  of  romance  had  raised  her,  in  truth,  to  his  simulated 
passion ;  he  touched  the  lips  nothing  less  than  filial  affection  had 
kissed,  with  a  mouth  which  had  gone  wandering  like  a  jackal's  appe- 
tite. 

"  My  darling,"  he  sighed,  "  we  will  fly  to  the  land  of  the  bonnie 
blue  flag.  I  am  going  to  Canada  to  send  my  wardrobe  there.  My 
country  will  hail  you  as  my  Pocahontas,  my  queen.  Oh,  there  are 
ardent  and  hospitable  hearts  there  !  My  family  name  is  greater  in 
England  than  in  America,  and  we  can  cross  the  ocean  and  unite 
my  patriotism  and  your  romance  in  everlasting  poetry  and  pas- 
sion !" 

As  she  promised  to  keep  his  secret  and  await  him,  a  light  foot 
touched  the  curtain  ;  a  match  flashed  upon  the  gas-bracket  at  their 
side,  and  the  senator's  wife  looked  scorn  upon  Booth  and  anger  upon 
her  child. 

"  Go  to  your  room,  miss  ! "  she  said,  and  once  more  bent  on 
Booth  a  glance  of  such  loathing  that  he  retorted  : 
"  Madam,  I  am  a  gentleman  ! " 

"  You  are  the  first  that  ever  said  so,"  answered  Mrs.  Pittson. 
He  felt  but  little  rage  as  he  went  down  the  stairs,  chuckling  to 
himself : 

"  Lucky  at  cards,  unlucky  in  love— not  I  !  There  is  time  before 
the  train  for  a  visit  to  Nelly." 

He  took  a  carriage  and  was  driven  toward  the  Treasury  Depart- 
ment. They  were  lighting  the  lamps  at  the  National  Theatre  as  his 
carriage  turned  to  the  left  at  Thirteenth  Street,  and  went  slowly 
over  the  unpaved  roads  through  the  Alsatia  of  the  town,  where 
blacks  and  whites  feasted  by  crime  and  license  upon  the  wandering 
habits  of  war.  Dwellings  neglected  and  unpainted  stood  amid  tot- 
tering rows  of  tenements ;  music  and  laughter  came  from  low  bar- 
rooms where  soldiers  treated  women ;  a  sinister  and  suspicious  look 
was  over  everything. 

At  the  farthest  margin  of  this  central  pest-place,  where  the  city 
seemed  to  stop  at  a  desert  of  rubbish-fields,  upon  a  desolate  avenue 
never  yet  occupied  or  paved,  stood  a  brick  structure  at  a  corner,  like 


446  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

a  wheelwright's  shop,  with  habitations  above  it.  Booth  applied  a 
key  and  felt  his  way  along  a  stair  to  a  door  in  a  corridor,  at  which 
he  knocked. 

There  seemed  to  be  whispering  within. 

He  knocked  again,  with  the  decision  of  jealousy. 

The  door  opened,  and  Nelly  Harbaugh  appeared  with  a  candle. 
Before  she  could  distinguish  him,  Booth  had  seized  and  kissed  her, 
saying : 

"  Nell,  I  am  going  away,  and  my  heart  is  full  of  you  !  " 

"You  are.?"  the  girl  answered — leaner,  fiercer,  commonly  at- 
tired. "  Why  don't  you  go  jump  off  the  Long  Bridge  ?  Nobody 
cares  what  becomes  of  you  ! " 

"  O  Nelly !  I  depend  on  you  more  than  ever,  as  I  grow  more 
estranged  from  good  fortune.     Don't  break  my  heart ! " 

"  I  would  if  I  could,  and  let  the  lies  and  serpents  in  it  loose ! 
Here  am  I,  making  my  living  by  taking  little  menial  parts  at  the 
theatres,  standing  in  the  chorus  and  processions,  and  tempted  by  a 
thousand  men — yet  true  to  the  dismal  sin  you  deceived  me  to  com- 
mit. I  learned  enough  of  man  when  I  knew  you,  John  Booth.  Go, 
quit  my  door !  the  theatre  is  soon  to  begin,  and  I  must  take  my  stand 
among  the  supernumeraries.  Not  a  dollar  have  you  sent  me  in 
months  ! " 

"  Nell,  I  have  been  in  a  great  scheme,  waiting  on  ungrateful 
friends.     Here  is  money  ;  take -what  you  want." 

She  put  down  the  candle  and  took  his  hand,  full  of  notes,  and 
threw  it  against  his  breast. 

"Judas  I  "  she  said.  "  Not  one  of  your  thirty  pieces  will  I  ever 
take.  You  have  degraded  my  soul.  Nothing  but  ambition  gave 
you  the  victory  over  me.  I  never  loved  you.  My  heart  is  true  to 
the  man  I  still  expect  to  fall  to  my  experience  and  forgive  me ! " 

The  action  and  the  words  raised  the  brute  in  him. 

"  Whispering,  were  you  }  "  he  hissed.  "  Let  me  search  a  min- 
ute ! " 

"  Go  out ! "  commanded  Nelly  Harbaugh.  "  I  don't  want  to 
hang  you,  but  every  rag  in  this  room  is  mine,  and  I  will  defend  my 
property  against  the  thief  who  robbed  me  of  my  character." 

She  had  cocked  a  pistol  in  his  face,  and  aimed  behind  it.  like 
famine  full  of  recklessness. 

With  a  movement  of  his  foot  he  tripped  her,  never  ceasing  to 
look  into  her  eyes,  and,  as  she  stumbled,  he  seized  the  pistol  in  one 


GRASS   IVIDOIVS. 


447 


hand  and  her  throat  with  the  other.  His  arms  were  like  swelling 
bands  of  steel. 

The  powerful  young  woman  threw  all  her  weight  upon  him,  but 
in  the  wrestle  his  gymnasium  art  enabled  him  to  turn  her  sidewise 
and  to  fall  above. 

Before  he  could  conclude  what  to  do,  a  cord  was  thrown  around 
his  arms  and  neck  repeatedly,  and  it  entangled  his  knees.  He  gasped 
and  fell. 

The  cord  was  drawn  tighter.  Nelly  Harbaugh  arose,  and  stood 
before  him  with  the  pistol  cocked  again.  He  felt  death  to  be  in  her 
eyes,  and  strangulation  from  some  hidden  foe  was  overtaking  him. 

"  Now,  you  slave-dog,"  spoke  the  fierce  woman,  "  I  may  as  well 
end  you  and  save  innocent  souls  !  My  father  was  a  soldier ;  I  am  a 
mountain-girl.     Kneel  down  and  pray  !  " 

He  sank  upon  his  knees.  Death  was  before  him  and  the  cord 
behind. 

"  Nelly,"  exclaimed  a  deep  voice,  "don't  shoot !  Open  the  win- 
dow, and  you  can  call  for  help  if  we  need  it.     He  is  tame  now." 

The  girl  threw  up  the  broken  casement,  and  stood  beside  it  with 
the  candle. 

When  Booth  recovered  strength  enough  to  see,  a  large  woman 
sat  before  him,  and  Nelly  Harbaugh  was  guarding  the  door  with  the 
pistol. 

He  looked  into  the  strange  woman's  face.  It  was  the  same 
which  had  read  him  the  fierce,  fateful  prophecy  at  Harper's  Ferry 
with  Atzerodt. 

"  In  some  such  naked  place  as  this,"  exclaimed  Hannah  Ritner, 
slowly,  to  Booth,  "  your  pride  and  cruelty  will  end  unless  you  can 
repent.  Did  you  not  come  from  a  lady's  side  this  night,  full  of 
lies  and  deceit,  to  glut  your  unbridled  wickedness  upon  this  deserted 
temple  of  my  sex  ?  " 

She  pointed  to  Nelly  Harbaugh,  in  all  that  actress's  unconsciously 
awakened  powers  of  beauty  and  expression. 

"  Witch."  spoke  Booth,  in  a  spiritless  tone,  "  if  you  tell  fortunes 
right,  you  know  I  love  this  cruel  girl  alone,  and  none  besides." 

His  voice  gave  way  in  tears  ;  he  was  the  greater  woman  now, 

"If  you  love  Nelly,"  asked  Hannah  Ritner,  melting  somewhat 
herself,  "  what  makes  you  neglect  her,  and  be  the  disturber  of  the 
generous  heart  of  Miss  Pittson  ?  " 

"  Mischief,"  said  Booth.     "  Ambition  and  the  devil ! " 


448  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  Rise  up  and  go,"  commanded  Hannah  Ritner.  "  We  know 
you  now,  and  do  not  fear  you.  The  cord  I  predicted  for  you  has 
already  been  around  your  neck.     Beware  next  of  the  eternal  fire !  " 

He  staggered  up  and  looked  around ;  they  were  prepared  for 
him  at  every  point,  both  watching  him  with  the  courage  of  confed- 
erates. 

"I  know  you  always  carry  a  pistol,  sir,"  Nelly  Harbaugh  re- 
marked. "  Touch  your  hand  to  your  hip,  and  your  little  brains  will 
be  spilt  upon  this  bare  floor !  " 

"  Nelly,  do  you  hate  me  ?  " 

"I  do!" 

"  Then  kill  me  !  I  came  here  to-night  to  designate  the  leading 
parts  you  were  to  play  with  me  in  the  West  on  my  return  from 
Canada.     Since  you  do  not  care  for  me,  my  career  is  done." 

"  Go  !  "  said  Nelly  Harbaugh  ;  "  you  have  told  lies  enough.  I  am 
now  prepared  to  play  leading  parts,  and  hire  such  unreliable  actors 
as  you  to  support  me." 

As  his  footsteps  died  on  the  stairs,  Nelly  Harbaugh  fell  at  Han- 
nah Ritner's  feet. 

"  Must  I  forgive  him  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  do  hate  him,  but  I  want 
to  play  so  much  !  " 

"  Be  prepared  for  what  may  come,  ambitious  girl !  You  may 
save  this  man  from  greater  crimes ;  if  he  disappoints  you,  I  will  see 
that  you  have  an  opening  for  your  talents,  if  you  will  be  faithful. 
Then,  he  dz'd  see  Light  Pittson  to-night." 

"  O  Hannah  !  "  exclaimed  Nelly  Harbaugh,  "  were  you  only  find- 
ing out  what  you  professed  to  know  ?  " 

"  Come  ! "  concluded  the  fortune-teller,  "  it  is  time  you  were  at 
the  theatre.  We  all  act  a  little.  You  say  Lloyd  Quantrell  treated 
you  like  a  gentleman  and  no  oppressor  ?  " 

"  Hannah,  he  was  a  brother  to  me  in  Richmond.  How  different 
the  manly  Southern  soldier  from  these  low  spies  between  the  lines ! 
If  poor  Lloyd  was  alive,  Katy  Bosler  would  find  him  a  gallant  and 
tender  man,  I  know." 

Booth  walked  along  the  streets  of  what  was  called  "  Murder 
Bay,"  in  Washington,  with  a  nature  cowed  yet  treacherous.  He 
yearned  for  some  occasion  to  excite  his  prowess  again.  It  came  as 
he  passed  the  intervening  corner  and  heard  cries  from  a  small  frame 
cabin  where  women  and  men  were  fighting  in  a  low  bar-room.  Bend- 
ing and  stealing  along  like  a  cat.  Booth  reached  the  small  box-win- 


GRASS   WIDOWS.  449 

clow,  and,  peering  within,  saw  the  positions  of  the  drunken  combat- 
ants. 

In  a  moment  he  was  among  them,  fighting  cool  and  manfully, 
every  blow  of  his  powerful  arm  felling  a  man;  and  before  they 
could  determine  whether  he  was  officer,  or  policeman,  or  an  appa- 
rition, he  had  leaped  over  the  threshold  and  turned  the  corner; 
and  at  the  theatre,  across  the  avenue,  he  stopped  and  drank  some 
brandy. 

"  Are  you  going  up  to  see  the  President  ?  "  asked  the  bar- keeper. 
"  He's  got  a  box  here  to-night." 

"  No,"  answered  Booth,  with  a  rolling  curse  at  Mr.  Lincoln  ; 
"  I'll  go  through  under  the  stage,  though." 

He  passed  on  to  an  alley  and  area  in  the  rear  of  the  theatre, 
used  to  get  in  scenery  and  horses,  and  afford  escape  from  the  stage  in 
case  of  fire. 

As  he  stood  there,  the  "Star-spangled  Banner"  was  played 
within,  and  its  high-pitched,  swelling  strains  streamed  into  the  ad- 
de-sac  of  the  alley  and  empty  square,  to  take  the  resonance  of  walls 
and  stables,  and  echo  with  a  lonely  grandeur  on  the  vagabond's  soli- 
tude. The  President  was  entering  the  theatre.  Booth  listened  with 
the  hate  of  convicted  insignificance  to  the  loud  applause  of  the  grate- 
ful people. 

A  woman  came  out  of  the  theatre  back  door  into  the  area  and 
shut  the  door  behind  her. 

Booth  crouched  behind  a  step  and  heard  her  say : 
"  For  this  painted  life  I  left  a  good  man  and  despised  a  church — 
God  forgive  me  !  " 

Nelly  Harbaugh  threw  back  her  long,  yellow  hair,  drew  in  the 
balm  of  the  night  and  the  twinkling  childhood  of  little  stars,  and 
re-entered  the  National  Theatre. 

A  horse,  from  one  of  the  stables  in  the  alley,  made  a  great 
clattering  on  the  stones  as  he  was  ridden  out  of  the  alley  to  F 
Street.  Booth  walked  after  the  horse,  and  came  out  into  this  thor- 
oughfare between  blank  house-walls.  He  stopped  in  the  outlet  and 
looked  back. 

"  I  could  have  killed  Abe  Lincoln,"  said  he,  "  and  been  half-way 
to  Capitol  Hill  on  that  horse.  These  blind  alleys  behind  the  theatres 
have  no  connection  with  the  audience  or  the  street  in  front,  except 
by  that  little  postern-door  !  " 

Something  in  the  idea  put  nerve  into  his  step,  and  he  walked 


450 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIX. 


clown  F  Street  rapidly  three  blocks  to  Tenth.  There  rose  before 
him,  in  the  soft  night,  the  pediment,  pilasters,  and  many  Roman 
doors  of  Ford's  Theatre,  with  drinking-kennels  along  its  sides.  It 
had  once  been  a  Christian  church. 

Booth  turned  down  a  dark  alley  from  F  Street  running  to  a  large 
court  at  right  angles  with  the  alley.  Only  one  house  had  a  door 
upon  the  alley,  and  the  court  contained  several  stables  and  no  re- 
spectable habitation ;  but,  to  the  right,  the  great  naked  gable  of  the 
church-theatre  closed  the  court,  and  one  small  door  was  low  to  the 
ground. 

Booth  opened  this  door  and  stepped  into  the  lighted  theatre.  A 
man  called  his  name — one  Spangler,  a  Baltimorean,  half  carpenter, 
half  drudge. 

"  Hallo,  Ned  !  "  said  Booth,  and  advanced  with  the  man  toward 
the  corner  of  the  stage.  "  Which  box,  Ned,  does  the  President  gen- 
erally occupy  here  }  " 

"  That  upper  one,  across  yonder — they  knock  them  two  boxes 
into  one." 

Booth  looked  up,  and  a  woman  in  the  box  raised  her  handker- 
chief to  her  lips  and  smiled  at  him. 

It  was  Light  Pittson,  with  her  father  and  old  Abel  Quantrell 
beside  her.     How  much  they  all  looked  alike ! 

Booth  raised  his  finger  to  his  lips  and  drew  back. 

"  Ned,"  said  he,  as  he  stepped  out  into  the  desolate  area  behind 
the  theatre,  "  see  how  much  you  can  rent  me  one  of  these  old  stables 
for.     I  may  want  to  keep  a  horse." 

He  gave  the  man  a  quarter  of  a  dollar.  Nothing  but  a  home- 
less dog  roamed  the  old  court  as  he  left  it  by  the  alley  and  regained 
the  street. 

He  was  trembling.  To  men  of  his  profession,  who  live  by  rote 
and  imitation,  an  original  idea  often  carries  all  the  vanity  of  author- 
ship. He  turned  into  a  large  brick  inn  a.t  the  corner  of  Ninth  Street 
and  ordered  a  cock-tail  of  brandy. 

"  Drink  with  me,"  he  said  to  the  bar-keeper ;  "  I  have  got  an  idea 
for  a  play  I  wouldn't  sell  to  President  Lincoln's  Billy  Shakespeare." 

Yet  that  night,  as  Mr.  Booth  traveled  northward,  his  sobs  were 
heard  from  his  berth  by  fellow-passengers. 

What  was  it  made  him  weep  ? 

Not  his  new  idea  for  a  play. 

Not  his  prodigal  and  precocious  life. 


GRASS   WIDOWS.  45 1 

Not  even  Light  Pittson,  in  the  ripeness  of  pure  womanhood  and 
the  devotion  of  romance. 

It  was  the  loss  of  Nelly  Harbaugh's  regard. 

Sometimes  the  deceiver  becomes  the  forsaken ;  and  that,  when 
he  can  no  longer  appreciate  purity. 

As  Booth  reached  Canada,  he  found  great  excitement  there. 

John  Beall  had  seized  a  small  American  passenger-steamer  ply- 
ing between  Canada  and  the  United  States,  and  with  it  committed 
several  piratical  deeds,  but  had  failed  to  attack  Johnson's  Island, 
where  his  spy  had  been  detected,  and  the  tardy  Canadians  were 
now  giving  up  some  of  Beall's  men,  and  were  searching  for  him. 

Booth  had  barely  arrived  in  Canada  when  another  gang  of  ban- 
dits, in  the  name  of  the  insurgent  States,  crossed  the  American  line 
and  robbed  a  bank  and  shed  blood,  regardless  of  the  hospitality  they 
had  solicited  or  the  rights  of  nations.  They  returned  to  Montreal 
to  show  their  commissions  from  Richmond,  and  to  make  a  series  of 
illiterate  affidavits  rejoicing  in  their  shame. 

The  Americans,  now  aroused,  turned  on  Canada  and  crossed 
the  border.  Fear  exacted  what  civilization  could  not  obtain,  and 
the  British  line  was  at  last  policed  by  the  Canadians,  but  not  until 
a  band  of  felons  had  endeavored  to  set  fire  to  the  city  of  New  York, 
one  of  whom,  an  escaped  prisoner  from  Johnson's  Island,  was  capt- 
ured with  his  combustible  in  his  hand. 

Finally,  John  Beall,  the  most  persistent  incendiary  the  East  had 
produced,  was  seized  at  Suspension  Bridge,  after  having  led  a  party 
into  the  State  of  New  York  to  throw  trains  of  flying  passenger-cars 
from  the  track. 

Beall  and  the  other  incendiary  were  condemned  to  die  as  pirates 
and  spies. 

These  nearly  simultaneous  outrages  were  all  parts  of  a  general 
purpose  to  defeat  the  re-election  of  President  Lincoln,  and  terrify 
the  free  States  into  selecting  the  candidates  who  would  let  the  au- 
thors of  the  war  resume  their  political  importance,  and  let  slavery 
make  the  terms  it  had  so  long  rejected. 

Inhumanity  and  treachery  never  did  the  best  cause  any  good  ;  a 
bad  cause  they  could  not  save.  The  State  of  Maryland  voted  for 
Abraham  Lincoln,  and  he  had  half  a  million  majority  in  the  Union. 
Luther  Bosler's  one  vote,  "sticking  all  up  py  itself"  at  the  tail 
of  two  hundred  and  eighty-one,  had  become  more  than  forty  thou- 
sand. 


452 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


Mr.  Booth  kept  his  own  counsel  in  Canada,  had  it  understood 
that  he  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  the  daughter  of  a  Republican 
statesman,  and  he  bought  a  bill  of  exchange  for  three  hundred  dol- 
lars at  a  Montreal  bank,  saying  he  was  going  to  run  the  blockade  to 
the  South. 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

LEGITIMATE  DRAMA, 

Katy  Bosler  was  the  mistress  of  Abel  Quantrell's  house  in 
Baltimore.  The  old  man  took  a  sardonic  joy  in  his  grandchild, 
which  he  named  Winter,  in  honor  of  his  Congressman  friend,  and  to 
mark  its  want  of  fatherly  care.  He  seemed  the  prouder  of  this  boy 
because  it  was  disowned,  and  the  tenderer  to  Katy  because  she  was 
abandoned. 

He  never  mentioned  Lloyd's  name  ;  and  once,  when  Hannah  Rit- 
ner  spoke  for  the  absent  boy,  declaring  that  he  had  never  disobeyed 
his  father,  but  had  kept  in  fact  and  spirit  within  the  regular  lines  of 
the  insurrection,  the  old  man  took  down  the  writings  of  Franklin, 
and  pointed  to  the  words  : 

"  Nothing  has  ever  hurt  me  so  much  as  to  find  myself  deserted 
in  my  old  age  by  my  only  son,  and  not  only  deserted,  but  to  find  him 
taking  up  arms  against  me  in  a  cause  wherein  my  good  fame,  for- 
tune, and  life  were  all  at  stake.  .  .  .  The  part  he  acted  against  me 
in  the  war  will  account  for  my  leaving  him  no  more  of  an  estate 
he  endeavored  to  deprive  me  of. 

" '  My  son  is  my  son  till  he  gets  him  a  wife, 

But  my  daughter  is  my  daughter  all  the  days  of  her  life.* " 

These  were  the  words  of  Franklin  concerning  his  natural  son : 
Abel  Quantrell  might  have  forgiven  his  natural  son  for  a  similar 
course,  but  his  legitimate  son  seemed  to  him  in  the  rights  of  legiti- 
macy to  possess  no  rights  of  pathos ;  by  the  law  he  judged  Lloyd, 
like  a  Jew  by  his  Jewish  code,  and  Edgar  Pittson,  his  natural  son, 
he  judged  as  Paul  judged  the  Gentile  Timothy,  "  my  own  son  in  the 
faith." 

He  divided  his  property,  while  yet  alive,  between  Katy  Bosler  and 
Light  Pittson. 


LEGITIMATE   DRAMA. 


453 


Lloyd's  own  property  in  Maryland  was  now  a  confiscated  waste, 
and  he  possessed  nothing  but  the  gun  in  his  hands. 

There  arose,  however,  for  the  absent  one  a  second  motherhood. 
The  fervid  abolitionist,  Hannah  Ritner,  adopted  Lloyd  Quantrell  in 
her  heart,  and  clothed  him  in  the  panoply  of  her  prayers. 

She  had  nurtured  the  hope  that  she  might  yet  find  it  consistent 
to  marry  Abel  Quantrell,  for  the  sake  of  her  grandchild  Light  Pitt- 
son,  who  was  innocent  of  the  lapse  in  her  family  pride  and  name ; 
but  the  obduracy  of  her  lover  toward  his  acknowledged  son  settled 
the  question  in  Hannah  Ritner's  mind. 

"  Edgar,"  this  strange  and  homeless  woman  said,  "  if  I  have  been 
unjust  to  you  already,  I  must  be  more  unjust  still.  You  are  abun- 
dantly blessed  with  popularity,  public  influence,  and  the  right  convic- 
tions ;  your  brother  Lloyd  has  none  of  these ;  he  is  poor,  obscure, 
and  wrong.  Shall  I  take  from  him  the  pride  of  his  descent,  also  ? 
If  you  are  Abel  Quantrell's  lawful  son,  Lloyd  Quantrell  has  not  even 
the  memory  of  his  mother  to  inherit.  One  of  you  must  wear  the 
stain." 

"  Mother,  I  am  the  older.  Can  you  ask  how  I  shall  answer }  " 
the  senator  replied.  "  I  know  what  is  in  your  heart,  and  its  tender- 
ness is  in  my  veins.  No  mess  of  pottage  will  I  cook  for  my  hunter- 
brother  to  defraud  him  of  the  precious  inheritance  of  his  mother's 
fame  and  our  father's  repute.  My  pedigree  shall  be  from  immacu- 
late freedom,  working  its  miracles  in  you,  the  purest  of  loving  souls, 
and  blessing  my  descent  with  relationship  to  every  detached  and 
fatherless  child  of  God." 

Quiet  as  childhood  he  kissed  her  brow,  and  took  her  worn  and 
bruised  frame  into  his  arms,  and  sang  her  the  tunes  she  had  never 
been  blessed  to  sing  to  him  nor  rock  him  to  sleep  in  the  cradle  of 
domestic  happiness.  The  pilgrim  mother,  seeking  everywhere  to 
do  the  penance  of  duty,  sacrifice,  and  alms  in  lonely  places  or  on 
dangerous  tasks,  closed  her  eyes  upon  her  tears  of  enthusiasm  and 
sorrow,  and  slept  in  the  arms  of  her  consoling  son. 

The  penalty  of  their  integrity  was  still  to  be  paid. 

One  day  in  the  Senate  the  new  amendment  to  the  American  Con- 
stitution—the thirteenth  in  number,  like  the  number  of  the  English 
colonies  in  America — was  to  be  debated.  It  abolished  slavery,  and 
compelled  Congress  to  enforce  that  emancipation  which  now  ex- 
isted only  in  the  President's  proclamation  and  as  a  measure  of 
war. 


454 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN 


President  Lincoln  was  deeply  interested  in  the  passage  of  this 
amendment,  and  came  to  the  Senate  to  hear  the  debate ;  and  a  no- 
ble audience  was  there  collected  of  the  fashion  and  public  intellect 
of  the  country. 

Senator  Pittson  was  the  debater  of  whom  the  reasoning  work 
was  expected,  to  persuade  other  border-State  senators  to  vote  for 
the  bill,  like  Mr.  Reverdy  Johnson,  who  had  been  sent  to  the  Senate 
from  Maryland  by  Henry  Winter  Davis.*  But  there  were  some 
bitter  opponents  of  the  measure  there,  and  one  of  these,  claiming 
some  merit  of  originating  justice  for  his  party,  was  reminded  by  Ed- 
gar Pittson  of  the  person  who  published  some  poetry  as  "  original," 
and  when  called  to  task  replied  that  it  was  marked  "  original "  in 
the  newspaper  he  took  it  from. 

The  opposing  senator,  intemperate  of  habits  and  speech,  rose 
and  exclaimed  : 

"  If  I  were  to  quote  anything  from  that  senator,  I  should  mark 
it '  Anonymous.'  " 

The  brutal  reference  to  a  mooted  illegitimacy  or  unauthenticity 
of  Edgar  Pittson  caused  a  low  ripple  of  laughter  and  stamping  feet 
to  emanate  from  the  more  degraded  spectators  in  the  galleries. 

Booth  had  heard  this  story,  and  he  watched  Light  Pittson  and 
her  mother,  sitting  near  him,  the  latter  scarlet  and  the  former  laugh- 
ing with  others,  unconscious  of  any  imputation. 

"  Ha  ! "  exclaimed  Booth  aloud,  "  he'll  feel  that,  on  his  daugh- 
ter's account." 

A  woman  before  him  turned  and  said  : 

"  You  speak  false,  sir  !     He  will  not  feel  it  at  all." 

He  recognized  the  face  of  the  dark  woman  who  had  bound  his 
arms  at  Nelly  Harbaugh's  lodgings. 

Looking  again.  Booth  saw  the  President,  the  senators,  the  for- 
eign ministers,  and  everybody,  deeply  interested  and  watching. 

A  vacant  chair  on  the  Senate  floor,  by  Edgar  Pittson's  side,  had 
been  occupied  temporarily  by  Abel  Quantrell,  who  now  slowly  rose, 
leaned  upon  his  cane,  and  put  his  remaining  hand  into  his  bosom, 
like  one  standing  to  be  counted  in  a  vote.  His  face  was  white  as 
plaster ;  his  under  lip  was  folded  upon  the  upper ;  he  bent  his  head 
and  looked  at  his  unavowed  son. 

Then,  without  a  sign  of  passion,  or  any  deeper  expression  than 

*  Maryland,  through  Reverdy  Johnson,  voted  for  the  amendment. 


LEGITIMATE  DRAMA.  455 

contempt  for  his  coarse  opponent,  the  Western  senator  sketched 
the  sufficiency  of  slavery  to  insult  the  progeny  of  its  own  licentious- 
ness. Amendments  had  been  offered  that  no  descendants  of  Afri- 
cans should  be  citizens,  and  that  "  no  person  whose  mother  or  grand- 
mother is  or  was  a  negro  shall  be  a  citizen,  or  eligible  to  any  place 
of  trust  or  profit." 

For  the  first  time,  the  young  senator  said,  the  mothers  of  the 
American  people  had  been  arraigned  in  the  Senate.  The  expiring 
throes  of  slavery,  in  the  pillory  rebellion  had  brought  it  to,  exempli- 
fied its  genius  in  that  all  who  were  helpless — innocent  sons  or  aged 
mothers,  dark  or  white — fell  beneath  the  curse  of  its  drunken  rage ; 
like  Noah,  exposed  in  his  cups,  hurling  the  stigma  of  his  own  shame 
at  his  grandchild.  For  half  a  century  the  proposition  had  been 
maintained  that  the  helplessness  of  one  race  of  women  was  the  only 
security  for  the  virtue  of  the  other ;  and  wherever  this  spirit  saw  a 
woman  toiling,  it  insulted  her  with  a  suspicion  of  her  honor,  making 
industry  the  yoke-fellow  of  shame,  and  canonizing  sloth  among  the 
vestals  of  religion. 

The  American  senator  laid  down  the  broad  proposition  that 
there  was  not  an  untainted  pedigree  or  descent  upon  the  globe.  In 
every  great  migration  or  incursion  the  women  fell  to  the  conqueror, 
and  slavery  spared  no  refinement,  but  rejoiced  in  the  high-breeding 
of  its  victims,  until  the  abuses  of  Christian  women  at  the  hands  of  a 
religion  which  denied  all  women  souls,  expelled  the  Moor  and  cre- 
ated at  once  Isabella  and  Columbus — Europe  and  the  virgin  world 
it  came  to  wed.  As  long  as  the  African  slave-trade  prevailed  by 
law,  the  women  of  America  were  subject  to  capture  and  degradation 
by  the  Moors ;  in  the  eye  of  Heaven  the  sufferings  of  the  one  in  the 
harem  and  the  other  in  the  barracoon  were  the  same.  Presuming 
upon  a  few  generations  of  putative  descent,  caste,  dating  back  to 
the  Norman  Goth  and  his  villein's  unconsulted  daughter,*  found  its 
nearest  imitators  in  the  New  World  among  the  weedlings  and 
swamp-flowers  of  yesterday,  the  very  orthography  of  whose  names 
was  lost,  and  in  whose  custody,  perhaps,  the  immemorial  princesses 
of  Africa  bore  them  a  posterity  whose  lineage  had  been  older  than 

*  "  Of  all  princely  lines  the  ducal  house  of  Normandy  paid  least  regard  to 
the  canonical  laws  of  marriage,  or  to  the  special  claims  of  legitimate  birth. 
William  the  Norman  was  emphatically  William  the  Bastard.  Throughout  the 
whole  of  Duke  Robert's  life  she  remained  in  the  position  of  an  acknowledged 
mistress." — Freeman's  "  Norman  Conquest." 


456  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Moses,  till  crossed  by  this  alligator,  in  the  serene  complacency  of  his 
appetites. 

The  reference  was  obvious,  and,  as  the  unfortunate  senator  rose 
to  apologize,  his  opponent  held  him  up  by  the  wand  of  his  subtle 
finger,  and  illustrated  with  him,  as  Ariel  might  have  lectured  upon 
Caliban. 

All  saw  the  relative  quality  of  the  two  exemplars :  Pittson,  the 
son  of  Mercury ;  in  every  globule  of  light  a  thought  reflected,  in 
every  motion  some  sign  of  the  spherical  harmonies,  his  words  the 
unconscious  flakes  of  an  agitation  as  gentle  as  the  snow-fall,  his  cli- 
ent the  ages  of  humankind  in  their  loving  evolutions  from  the  one 
unfailing  fountain  of  every  perfect  aristocracy — a  mother's  woes  ! 

Of  that  rock  of  origin  sure,  he  had  the  model  of  every  tribe  be- 
fore him,  and  the  nerve  of  every  noble  feeling  was  in  his  heart. 
Honoring  his  father  and  his  mother,  the  whole  land  became  his  per- 
sonal heritage  according  to  the  promise  of  God.  If  the  barbarous 
Crusader,  knowing  no  alphabet,  could  ride  to  Palestine  to  redeem 
the  sepulchre  of  a  lawgiver  who  was  fatherless  in  the  world,  the  son 
of  two  venerable  spectators  might  be  a  paladin,  indeed,  in  the  lists 
where  four  million  souls  were  this  day  to  come  into  the  genesis  of 
nations,  and  be  accountable  to  some  parentage. 

The  other  in  this  bright  light — as  from  the  Grail,  which  admin- 
istered a  holy  communion  to  the  nations — felt  his  rankness  and  low 
presumption  sting  himself,  like  a  nettle  shrinking  upon  the  parterre. 
The  man  he  had  imputed  dishonor  to,  shone  by  him  Hke  a  knight 
above  a  toad. 

"Even  from  that  source,"  said  the  senator,  after  a  pause,  "the 
little  children,  white  or  yellow,  cry,  '  Heureuse  a  vz'vre  ! '  and  thank 
Nature  for  the  gift  of  life.  To  live  :  it  is  all  we  are  sure  of.  So  glad 
of  life  are  we  that  we  would  live  forever  and  again.  In  every  tree 
the  birds  sing,  '  Life  ! '  in  every  swamp  the  chorus  of  life  is  certain  as 
the  night.  Give  life,  my  brother ;  release  from  the  bondage  of  your 
prejudices  and  the  oppressions  of  your  laws,  and  we  shall  start  the 
world  from  this  hour  with  every  man  the  Norman  conqueror  !  " 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  debate  the  whole  Senate  crowded  about 
the  senator ;  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  mothers  and  daugh- 
ters entered  to  shake  Mr.  Pittson's  hand.  A  generous  age,  brought 
slowly  to  the  incentive  of  a  magnanimous  deed,  felt  the  touch  of 
nature  like  a  tongue  of  flame,  make  all  see  and  speak  in  the  glow 
of  liberty.     The  great  President  himself,  whose  legal  authenticity 


LEGITIMATE  DRAMA. 


457 


was  to  be  disputed  after  his  fame  had  become  the  light  of  the 
world,*  pressed  Mr.  Pittson's  hand,  and  said  : 

"  Ah  !  Eddy,  there  were  great  women  in  Egypt !  " 

The  other  senator,  who  had  nursed  the  scandal  like  a  niggard's 
gold,  to  make  the  most  efficient  use  of  it  some  day,  found  that  he 
had  expelled  himself  from  the  family  of  decent  mankind. 

Booth  was  too  obtuse  to  get  the  spirit  of  Senator  Pittson's  re- 
proof. He  merely  said  to  himself,  as  he  looked  toward  Light  Pittson 
in  the  happy  instant  of  her  father's  popularity  : 

"  He  didn't  deny  the  fact,  and  there  must  be  folly  in  the 
blood." 

As  Edgar  Pittson  walked  through  the  public  grounds  with  his 
parents  and  family,  the  birds  burst  into  song,  the  sun  kissed  the 
glad  earth  and  awoke  the  seed  within  it,  the  browsing  animals 
sought  pasture  with  their  unaccredited  young,  and  the  squirrels 
skipped  wantonly  in  the  poplar- trees.  Nothing  was  melancholy  for 
having  been  brought  to  life. 

Suddenly  the  air  quivered  with  the  sound  of  a  cannon.  Another 
and  another  took  up  the  reverberation  and  carried  it  around  the  cir- 
cle of  the  earthen  forts,  till  the  whole  land  seemed  to  leap  with  the 
roar  of  artillery,  and  the  broad  rivers  to  be  touched  by  the  skipping 
feet  of  iron  aerolites,  vaulting  from  heaven  to  dance  for  man. 

They  looked  back,  and  saw  upon  the  dome  of  the  great  white 
Capitol  the  head  of  the  unfinished  statue  of  Freedom  let  down  from 
a  crane  in  the  sky,  as  the  sculptor  had  modeled  it  when  it  did  not 
embody  a  reality.  To-day  it  was  a  dome  of  history,  complete,  and 
mother  of  a  pure,  uncertified  race. 

As  he  gazed  up  at  the  saluted  statue,  a  film  shot  across  Abel 
Ouantrell's  eye  and  his  side  seemed  to  leave  his  body.  His  son  and 
his  son's  wife  caught  him. 

It  was  a  stroke  of  paralysis. 

That  evening,  Luther  Bosler,  who  knew  the  reality  of  Senator 
Pittson's  paternity,  hastened  to  seek  Light  Pittson  before  she  could 
suspect  the  occasion  of  the  debate. 

"  Miss  Pittson,"  said  Luther,  "  I  have  the  consent  of  your  parents 
to  come  to  you  upon  a  trembling  errand— to  tell  you  that  in  your 

*  The  marriage  certificate  of  President  Lincoln's  parents  was  not  discov- 
ered till  some  years  after  his  death,  and  when  its  non-production,  from  an 
obscure  society,  had  caused  inquiries  and  exclamations  from  imputative  minds. 


458  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

family  I  would  make  the  hearthstone  of  my  own  and  you  the  idol 
there,  and  over  the  purity  of  your  impulses  would  lay  the  protection 
of  my  care." 

"  Luther,"  said  the  girl,  "  if  you  had  come  to  me,  like  a  fellow- 
countryman,  instead  of  courting  my  parents  first,  I  should  have  felt 
the  romance  of  your  attachment.  Now  I  must  tell  you  that  the 
means  you  have  used  to  prejudice  a  poor  Southern  patriot  in  papa's 
eyes  have  excited  my  indignation.     My  answer  is  '  No.'  " 

With  a  possible  idea  that  she  meant  Mr.  Booth,  Luther  sought 
that  gentleman  at  his  own  room  in  the  hotel. 

Mr.  Booth  was  seated  at  a  table  in  riding-boots,  spurs,  gaunt- 
lets, and  slouched,  corded  hat.  A  map  was  before  him,  kept  in  its 
place  by  a  bowie-knife  and  a  revolving  pistol.  He  leaped  up  and 
confronted  Luther  with  a  look  of  frenzy. 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Booth,"  said  Luther;  "we  have  broken  bread 
together  at  my  father's  table.  I  am  still  a  man  of  peace,  and  my 
errand  is  a  cordial  one.  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to  call  on  Miss 
Nelly  Harbaugh." 

"  What  business  have  you  with  that  lady  }  " 

"  Nothing  but  assistance :  to  reconcile  you  to  her,  Mr.  Booth, 
and  disabuse  your  mind  of  any  jealousy  of  me.  That  is  why  I 
choose  to  call  with  you.     Do  you  love  the  lady  ?  " 

Luther's  words  had  the  soft  authority  of  a  priest's.  Booth  glared 
at  him,  and  then  set  out  a  bottle  of  brandy. 

"  I  have  been  poor,"  said  he,  "  and  unable  to  be  just  to  Nelly. 
She  has  treated  me  like  an  enemy.  If  you  can  reconcile  us,  it  will 
be  a  friendly  act ;  she  has  so  much  genius  and  application  that  if  we 
were  to  work  together  we  might  make  a  fortune." 

Luther  took  the  bottle  and  said  : 

"  Mr.  Booth,  put  this  away,  with  your  other  dangerous  weapons. 
It  is  the  armorer  of  them  all.  You  know  I  have  been  your  friend 
ever  since  you  brought  the  spy,  Beall,  to  the  President's  chamber  : 
I  was  the  only  witness  who  recognized  him.  He  is  now  under  sen- 
tence of  death  for  willful  perseverance  in  acts  covered  in  no  land  by 
military  protection." 

"  You  can  save  him,"  said  Booth.  "  You  are  a  good  fellow,  and 
will  do  it," 

"  No,  nothing  can  save  him.  The  President  would  pardon  every 
guilty  man  if  he  could,  but  Beall  has  aroused  military  and  public 
opinion,  and  civilization  is  against  him.    As  this  government  hanged 


LEGITIMATE  DRAMA. 


459 


but  one  slaver  in  all  its  history,*  it  hopes  to  close  the  warning  by  the 
death  of  one  pirate.     You  know  him  to  deserve  it !  " 

Booth  looked  down  and  ground  his  teeth. 

They  walked  to  the  purlieu  where  Nelly  lived.     Booth  said : 

"  I  am  not  sure  of  my  reception.  I  will  trust  you,  major,  to  make 
my  peace,  and  will  be  within  call  from  the  window.  Do  your  best 
for  me  !     I  love  the  poor  girl  with  all  my  soul  ! " 

Luther  entered  the  old  brick  tenement  and  knocked  at  the  desig- 
nated door.  A  voice  cried,  "  Come  ! "  which  awoke  remembered 
echoes  in  his  heart.  He  lifted  the  latch,  and  there  stood  before  him 
the  goddess  of  his  youth,  Nelly,  in  the  white,  sleeveless  robe  of  a 
Roman  girl. 

She  was  standing  before  an  old,  cracked  mirror,  in  the  act  of  re- 
citing. Her  splendid  hair  seemed  to  be  one  sheet  of  golden  brown 
from  the  low  forehead  backward  almost  to  her  feet,  and  her  Roman 
nose,  as  strong  in  character  as  the  lines  of  her  throat  were  gentle 
and  womanly,  parted  eyes  of  power  and  of  pain.  She  was  thinner 
and  worn,  and  the  place  was  bare  as  a  prison. 

Giving  a  scream  of  agony  and  joy,  she  threw  herself  at  Luther's 
knees,  crying : 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  would  come  !  I  have  seen  you  passing,  and 
hid  myself  in  doorways.  I  have  read  your  name  in  papers,  and 
have  cried  with  pride.     You  love  me  still  ! " 

He  looked  down  at  her  tenderly,  but  silent ;  some  tears  were  in 
his  eyes.  She  reached  up  with  her  own  eyes,  almost  blind,  until  she 
could  touch  his  face.     Its  expression  made  her  scream  again. 

"  Not  love  me  !  "  she  sobbed.  "  Why  do  you  wear  these  worldly 
clothes  ?  Why  have  you  left  your  Dunker  cloth  ?  If  not  to  follow 
me  down  through  my  sins  to  seek  my  side,  why  have  you  fallen  so  ?  " 

"  Nelly,  I  came  to  be  your  friend — to  put  you  on  your  way,  and 
say  with  Him  who  came  to  lift  up  sinners,  '  Go,  sin  no  more  ! '  " 

The  girl  looked  at  him,  with  her  long,  serpent-flowing  arms  ex- 
tended to  wipe  her  eyes  of  moisture,  and  to  see  him  well.  As  she 
looked,  she  shrank  away. 

*'  Not  stained  in  thought  or  act  ?  "  she  whispered.  "  Not  changed 
at  all .?     Not  worldly,  and  not  even  tempted  .''     O  my  God  !  " 

*  Gordon,  hanged  February  21, 1862,  for  bringing  eight  hundred  and  ninety- 
two  blacks  from  Africa.  President  Lincoln's  son  died  the  morning  Gordon's 
mother  and  wife  went  to  Washington  to  ask  for  a  pardon,  and  they  could  not 
therefore  see  the  President. 


460 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


She  fell  ppon  her  knees  and  next  upon  her  face,  and  stretched 
her  white  arms  wide,  and  moaned  : 

"  I  have  lost  him  ! " 

*'  Nelly,"  spoke  Luther,  not  rejoicing  in  this  proof  of  his  suprem- 
acy in  his  first  mistress's  soul,  "  you  loved  ambition  more  than  me. 
You  were  right  to  be  candid.  I  have  interested  myself  to  give  your 
genius  an  opportunity,  and,  as  the  last  proof  of  my  friendship,  before 
we  part,  here  is  a  little  bank-book,  with  a  deposit  to  your  name,  on 
which  you  can  draw  these  checks." 

He  raised  her  up  and  put  the  book  into  her  hand,  and  kissed  her 
brow  respectfully. 

She  looked  at  the  book  and  saw  written  there,  opposite  her  name, 
the  sum  of  four  thousand  dollars. 

"  Nelly,  the  President  is  one  of  the  subscribers  to  this  endow- 
ment. Now.  give  Mr.  Booth  a  chance  to  redeem  himself !  He  says 
he  loves  you.  Let  him  prove  it  by  the  act  of  honor,  and  make  you 
his  wife." 

He  stood  at  the  window,  and  made  a  sign.  A  foot  bounded 
upon  the  stairs,  and  a  dark  form  knelt  at  Nelly's  feet. 

The  girl  stood  cold  and  worldly  between  them. 

"  I  am  rewarded  in  my  own  coin,"  she  said ;  "  gold  instead  of 
love,  career  instead  of  home.  Oh,  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  manly 
help,  when  I  betrayed  you  so  falsely  at  this  man's  bribe  of  making 
me  the  mistress  of  his  counterfeit  world !  Let  him  now  fulfill  the 
promise  ! " 

She  exhibited  to  Booth  the  deposit  in  the  book.  His  eyes  flashed 
between  shame  and  avarice. 

"  I  give  you  for  doing  my  ruin,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh  to  Booth, 
"  a  benefit !  I  am  capable  of  sustaining  you,  and  will  play  the  lead- 
ing female  part.  I  will  not  remember  the  paltry  parts  you  gave  me 
to  play  when  you  employed  the  company." 

She  looked  very  unlike  forgetfulness,  however. 

"  May  I  hope  you  can  love  me,  Nelly  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  can  assist  my  career.  My  heart  is  dead.  You 
broke  it  through  my  ambition,  and  can  only  win  it  again  when  you 
have  proved  yourself  an  actor." 

Booth  set  to  work  to  study,  and  with  unthinking  selfishness  he 
chose  Richard  HI,  his  father's  old  part,  where  Nelly  had  nothing 
strong  to  do ;  but  she  had  improved  the  time  of  his  negligence  by 
diligence  and  observation.     She  repulsed  his  caresses,  prepared  her- 


LEGITIMATE  DRAMA.  46 1 

self  with  the  courage  of  the  castaway,  wherein  the  genius  of  acting 
often  lies ;  and,  the  day  before  the  benefit,  he  began  to  drink,  like 
his  father  of  old. 

The  theatre  was  not  one  of  the  fashionable  pair  in  the  city,  but 
an  audience  of  notables  gathered  there.  Booth  was  inflamed  with 
brandy :  he  ranted  and  leaped  for  three  acts,  exciting  more  laughter 
than  admiration ;  while  the  beautiful  amateur,  announced  as  his 
pupil,  played  with  power  and  discretion,  and  became  the  "  rage  "  of 
every  gallant  in  the  city. 

In  the  fourth  act  John  Wilkes  Booth  found  he  could  not  articu- 
late at  all.  As  sometimes  had  happened  to  his  father,  after  a  fel- 
low-actor had  broken  his  nose  in  a  drunken  bout,  the  wanton  son 
was  dumb  as  a  pantomimist.  The  most  he  could  do  was  to  speak 
in  a  whisper. 

In  the  last  act  he  had  to  fight  the  Earl  of  Richmond,  who  was 
represented  by  an  actor  out  of  the  Union  army. 

Desperate  from  the  failure  of  his  voice,  and  his  head  full  of 
crazed  illusions,  Booth  looked  upon  this  man  as  a  proper  person  to 
kill. 

The  rival  actor  knew  the  quality  of  his  opponent  in  drink,  and 
was  too  brave  to  decline  the  combat.  At  the  morning's  rehearsal 
Booth's  attack  had  been  observed  to  be  fierce  and  wicked,  and  his 
superior  height  and  length  of  arm  were  [>lain  to  his  antagonist,  who 
stood,  at  night,  prepared  for  the  worst.  The  wings  were  thronged 
to  see  the  broadsword  encounter,  by  carpenters  and  supers,  hot  for 
a  real  fight. 

The  two  began  with  single-hand  exercise,  and  the  earl  scratched 
Booth's  cheek.  He  whispered  to  Booth  to  pause  and  end  it 
there. 

Booth  objected,  and,  in  the  stage  phrase,  "  led  up  with  two 
hands."  The  manager  and  ladies  now  hurried  to  the  entrances  to 
see  a  combat  of  real  blood. 

Booth  rushed  forward  with  both  hands  grasping  his  weapon, 
and  there  was  a  short  series  of  clashings  and  sparks,  when  down 
came  Richmond's  temperate  and  accurate  sword,  severing  Booth's 
eyebrow  and  clipping  the  cheek. 

"  My  God !  I've  killed  you  !  "  said  the  earl,  in  an  undertone. 

Booth  staggered,  bleeding  and  stunned,  and  sought  the  support 
of  the  tree-bough  that,  in  the  tradition  of  his  father,  he  always  nailed 
to  the  wing  in  "  Richard,"  and  there,  with  sparkHng  eyes  and  white, 


462  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

glistening  teeth,  and  blood-stained  countenance,  he  sought  to  renew 
the  fight. 

The  manager  ordered  the  curtain  to  be  rung  down. 

Booth  was  led,  faint  and  blind,  to  his  dressing-kennel. 

"  That's  all  right,  old  fellow,"  he  said  to  Richmond's  apologies ; 
"  that  was  splendid  !  "  * 

John  Beall  was  fighting  the  last  enemy  not  long  thereafter.  A 
little  procession  in  the  morning  of  a  wintry  day,  with  music  playing 
a  dead-march,  brought  him,  with  pinioned  arms,  beneath  the  same 
gallows  that  the  only  slaver  had  been  hanged  on.  He  looked  out  on 
the  sparkling  waters  of  New  York  Bay,  and  the  mountains  of  New 
Jersey  touched  with  snow — so  like  the  Blue  Ridge  by  his  home, 
near  Harper's  Ferry — and  the  fate  he  had  labored  so  hard  for,  came 
with  the  severing  of  a  cord  and  the  dropping  of  a  weight. 

The  incendiary,!  who  was  also  executed  in  time,  danced  a  jig 
under  the  gallows  and  sang  a  stave. 

Irregular  warfare,  though  it  long  followed  the  civil  war,  in  the 
form  of  mail- robberies  and  many  bloody  crimes,  was  to  have  but  one 
other  exemplification  in  America. 


Mr.  Booth  called  on  Nelly  Harbaugh  when  he  was  again  pre- 
sentable. 

"  John,"  said  she,  "  you  are  of  no  service  to  me.  I  have  passed 
you  in  the  profession.  It  is  time  I  looked  out  for  myself,  and  there 
are  several  rich  men  ardent  to  put  up  money  to  establish  me.  I 
love  nobody.  Money  is  what  I  want,  and  you  have  not  got  it.  You 
will  have  to  drop  out  of  my  life." 

Cold  as  what  he  had  made  her — an  adventuress  with  the  acting 
talent — she  bowed  him  formally  from  her  presence. 

He  turned,  all  stung  and  insulted,  on  Light  Pittson,  whom  he  met 
at  his  hotel. 

"  I  have  none  but  you,"  he  spoke,  with  real  tears.  "  They  are 
tearing  up  my  country  with  armies,  and  have  plowed  my  heart  with 
a  golden  plowshare.     Will  you  fly  with  me  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  " 

"  Be  ready,  then  ;  for  I  am  desperate." 

*  Nearly  literal  transcript  from  an  observer's  reminiscence  of  Booth, 
t  Kennedy. 


THE  ABDUCTION  PLOT.  463 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE  ABDUCTION   PLOT. 

Mr.  Booth  had  rented  a  stable  in  the  rear  of  Ford's  theatre, 
and  Ned  Spangler,  the  scene-shifter,  who  slept  in  the  theatre, 
groomed  his  horse. 

Spangler  was  a  typical  product  of  slavery  in  its  influence  on  the 
poor  mechanic  whites  around  it,  making  them  the  unacquisitive  ad- 
mirers of  those  of  the  social  grade  above  them.  He  worked  for 
mere  subsistence,  had  no  home,  drank  as  much  liquor  as  he  could 
get,  and  his  summer  holidays  were  spent  in  catching  crabs  off  the 
wharve*  and  spits  about  Baltimore.  He  had  a  blunted,  obeying 
face,  with  thin  beard  all  round  its  long,  heavy  chin,  and  Booth  was 
his  idea  of  an  educated  gentleman. 

For  the  first  time  Mr.  Booth  ranged  the  old  slave  counties  be- 
low Washington  upon  an  October  Saturday,  and  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing persons  to  whom  he  delivered  the  letters  of  introduction  from 
Canada  took  him  to  the  CathoHc  church  in  sight  of  Bryantown. 

He  had  probably  arranged  his  visit  with  reference  to  the  Sab- 
bath attendance  at  this  church,  where  the  substantial  planters  of 
the  deepest  slavery  prejudices  in  the  peninsulas  gathered  to  hear 
the  news,  and  most  of  these  had  sons  or  kinfolk  in  the  insurgent 
army. 

The  church  was  of  brick,  in  a  moldy  tint,  with  low  gallery-win- 
dows above,  the  taller  windows  below  them,  and  its  end  pointed  to 
the  road  and  upheld  a  cross,  cupola,  and  bell  above  the  notched 
gable.  The  graveyard  spread  around,  and  the  priest's  house  was 
close  by,  and  the  cedars  and  firs  on  the  airy  church  hill  were  hal- 
tering-posts  for  the  small,  freckled  horses  which  the  soft  climate 
nurtured  all  winter  in  the  open  air. 

The  handsome  stranger  with  an  historic  name,  now  thrown 
upon  his  own  resources,  attracted  general  attention.  It  was  already 
said  that  he  had  come  down  from  Washington  to  buy  the  old  lands 
for  improvement,  as  he  had  made  money  by  buying  oil-lands  in  an- 
other State.  He  was  introduced  to  everybody  of  consideration,  but 
seemed  most  attracted  to  Dr.  Samuel  Mudd,  the  red-haired  per- 
son whom  we  have  already  seen,  and  who  considered  his  family's 
grievances  the  greatest  in  the  State ;  there  was,  of  course,  only  one 


464  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

grievance  in  the  country,  namely,  the  legs  upon  the  "  nigger  "  which 
let  him  walk  away  from  his  master,  who  was  shocked  that  the  ob- 
durate government  did  not  let  go  of  its  enemy  in  the  trenches,  and 
bestow  its  whole  military  force  upon  catching  the  *'  nigger." 

Here  was  a  man  after  Booth's  own  heart,  and  he  distinguished 
Dr.  Mudd  by  accepting  his  invitation  to  go  home  to  dinner. 

Another  person  at  worship  that  day  was  David  Herold,  the  little 
apothecary's  clerk  from  Washington,  whose  passion  for  "  patridge  "- 
shooting  obtained  his  periodical  discharge  by  successive  employers  ; 
and  he  loved  the  vicinity  of  the  old  academy  he  had  attended  at 
Charlotte  Hall,  which  was  some  six  miles  distant  from  Bryantown 
church.     He  came  up  to  the  distinguished  arrival  and  said : 

"  Mr.  Booth,  I  met  you  at  Harper's  Ferry  in  the  times  of  ole 
John  Brown."  « 

"  Why,  Dave,"  replied  the  actor,  remembering  the  little  simper- 
ing face — in  which,  however,  the  eyes  had  become  more  set  and 
furtive,  from  gypsy  ways  and  wandering — "  how  queer  that  I  should 
see  you  here  !     Where's  Andrew  Atzerodt }  " 

"  Down  yer  to  Port  Tobakker,  makin'  carriages  and  runnin'  the 
blockade." 

The  two  pursuits  thus  oddly  conjoined — carriages  and  boats — 
touched  the  stranger's  seductive  dark  eyes  to  emit  a  little  soft 
flame. 

"  Dave,"  said  he,  "are  you  veiy  busy  now  ?  Could  you  take  me 
to  see  Atzerodt  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Booth,  I  can  always  borrey  a  horse  down  yer  in 
Charles,  and  I  like  to  hunt  and  ride.  Don't  you  want  to  shoot  some 
patridges  ?  " 

"  That's  just  it,"  replied  Booth  ;  "  don't  tell  anybody  we  are  go- 
ing, but  meet  me  to-morrow  noon  at  Bryantown  tavern." 

The  people  remarked  that  there  must  be  something  dead  in  the 
vicinity,  from  the  large  number  of  vultures  soaring  over  the  church. 

Booth  entered  this  church  with  the  others  ;  in  the  three  galleries 
were  negro  communicants  ;  four  rows  of  pews,  divided  by  two  aisles, 
filled  the  body  of  the  church  ;  the  arching  altar  at  the  head,  flanked 
by  banners,  already  showed  the  good  priest  at  work  with  boys  and 
bell  and  mystic  tapers,  amid  the  humble  ornaments  of  crucifix,  im- 
age, and  shining  metal. 

Booth  touched  the  holy  water  at  the  door,  but  did  not  make  the 
pious  signs  upon  his  breast,  and  he  took  a  place  in  a  family  pew. 


THE  ABDUCTION  PLOT.  465 

half  folded  his  arms,  and  pulled  with  one  released  hand  the  ends 
of  his  black  mustache,  watching  the  ceremony  of  the  dying  Son  of 
man. 

He  knew  the  significance  of  most  of  the  high  mass  from  school- 
days, and  heard  again  the  wailing  words  of  Saint  Leonard :  "  Be- 
hold, my  God,  the  traitor  who  has  so  often  rebelled  against  thee! 
The  blood  of  Jesus  cries  for  mercy  ;  and  my  sorrowful  heart 
also  implores  mercy." 

The  little  bell,  to  recall  the  wandering  minds  of  communicants 
from  their  distractions,  rang  again  and  again,  like  an  alarm-watch, 
set  for  this  hour,  on  the  ear  of  Booth,  but  he  did  not  notice  it. 

The  priest  put  on  the  vestments  of  the  Saviour's  torture— the 
amice  to  bhndfold  him,  the  girdle  for  his  cords,  the  chasuble  to 
mock  him  as  a  king— and  bowed  to  the  linen  cloths  upon  the  altar 
representing  the  innocent  victim's  winding-sheet.  Booth  watched  it 
all,  and  stole  glances  at  the  more  comely  women  reading  their  books 
of  prayer ;  but  all  the  while  he  thought  of  another  victim  to  blind- 
fold, to  bind,  to  mock,  and  to  deliver  up,  and  gritted  his  teeth  when 
he  imagined  some  disappointment  in  his  plan,  and  smiled,  looking 
straight  at  the  altar  cerements ;  and  as  the  alternative  of  murder 
filled  with  its  necessity  the  distended  caverns  of  his  soul,  he  put  out 
his  hand  mechanically  and  took  from  the  sacramental  bread  and 
ate. 

So  had  the  political  forefathers  of  some  in  that  church  eaten  the 
sacrament  twelve  generations  before  with  Spanish-made  assassins 
who  meant  to  blow  up  Parliament. 

A  man  came  up  the  road  from  the  Potomac  while  the  sermon 
was  following  the  mass.  He  rode  an  old  country  horse,  and  wore 
a  faded  gray  suit  whose  color  could  hardly  be  told,  but  in  it  were 
some  signs  of  a  military  life  and  rank.  He  was  of  great  stature,  but 
his  hair  was  gray  and  thin,  and  his  shoulders  stooped  with  troubles, 
and  he  rode  mechanically.  Who  could  have  guessed  that  this  bro- 
ken and  dissolute-looking  man  was  the  former  pride  of  the  county 
he  rode  in,  Lloyd  Quantrell  ? 

As  he  came  opposite  the  church,  which  stood  higher  up  on  the 
knoll  to  the  east,  the  traveler  saw  sitting  along  the  panels  of  the 
crooked  fence,  so  close  that  he  could  strike  them,  at  least  a  hundred 
vultures,  breathing  through  their  slender  bills,  balancing  with  diffi- 
culty on  their  weak  toes,  and  emitting  a  foul  odor  from  their  dull, 
raw  necks.     Quantrell  looked  for  some  sign  of  a  carcass  to  attract 


466  KATY  OF  CATOCTJN. 

them,  but  only  saw  the  picked  bones  of  a  horse,  long  bleached  by 
rain. 

Turning  his  head,  he  saw  the  cedars  and  other  trees,  in  a  thicket 
between  him  and  the  church,  black  with  other  scores  of  these  great 
turkey-birds,  roosting  in  the  branches.  Suddenly,  while  he  was  in 
their  midst,  these  buzzards  uttered  in  concert  a  loud,  hissing  noise, 
and  the  fence  beneath  their  weight  broke  down.  The  rough,  poor 
animal  Quantrell  was  riding  took  flight,  and  did  not  stop  till  it  had 
passed  a  running  brook  that  crossed  the  road. 

"  Three  years  and  a  half  ago  I  saw  a  saucy  buzzard  at  that  spot," 
said  Quantrell ;  "  is  it  an  omen  of  my  capture  and  execution  as  a 
spy.?     No  ;  I  wear  my  uniform,  and  do  not  come  disguised." 

He  remembered  that  a  dog,  which  he  recognized  as  Katy's  faith- 
ful Fritz,  had  assailed  him  desperately  in  the  road  as  he  landed  on 
Port  Tobacco  River,  from  Virginia,  that  morning,  and  that  no  kind 
recognition  or  petting  could  conciliate  the  animal. 

"What  a  reception,"  reflected  Quantrell,  "when  I  remember 
that  it  was  the  boast  of  Charles  County  to  have  had  only  seven  Union 
men  in  it  !  " 

One  of  these  was  standing  at  his  gate  as  Quantrell  entered  Bry- 
antown — a  physician  of  the  same  surname  and  family  as  the  other 
Dr.  Mudd.  He  looked  up  and  bowed,  and,  after  dropping  his  eyes, 
looked  again  and  cried,  "  Is  not  that  Lloyd  Quantrell }  " 

"  Yes,  doctor." 

"  Why,  come  in !  If  we  differ,  we  are  not  personal  enemies. 
Lloyd,  stay  this  Sunday  with  me,  for  your  mother's  sake  ! " 

"  Thank  God,"  spoke  Quantrell,  with  a  tear,  "  one  man  remem- 
bers me  !  No,  doctor,  I  am  here  under  orders,  as  a  soldier.  Unless 
they  capture  me,  I  shall  be  gone  this  night  to  my  own  lines." 

"  I  am  for  my  country,"  said  the  unpopular  Unionist,  "  but  I  wish 
you  no  harm,  my  boy.  A  few  months  will  bring  you  home  a  will- 
ing captive  !  " 

Quantrell  entered  the  hotel,  ordered  a  bottle  of  whisky,  and  lay 
down  in  a  bedroom  opening  on  the  upper  porch.  He  drank,  and 
opened  again  two  curious  letters  he  had  received.     The  first  said  : 

"Washington  City. 
"  My  dear  old  friend  and  sworn  avenger  of  the  South,  I  call 
upon  you  by  your  sacred  oath,  made  with  me  and  one  other,  five 
years  ago,  to  cross  the  river  and  meet  me  at  Brjantown  tavern,  next 


THE  ABDUCTION  PLOT.  467 

Sunday,  the .  I  will  surely  be  there,  and  the  business  is  im- 
portant. You  are  as  near  Bryantovvn  as  I  am,  in  Washington.  Re- 
member, '  Sic  semper  tyrattnis  !  '  J.  W.  BOOTH." 

It  was  not  this  letter  which  Quantrell  was  obeying,  but  a  dearer 
one,  that  he  read  again  with  feelings  aroused  and  wondering : 

"  Baltimore. 
"  Captain  Lloyd  Quantrell  :  Your  father  commands  you 
to  obey  the  letter  you  will  receive  with  this.  For  this  time  only,  he 
removes  his  injunction  that  you  shall  not  come  into  our  lines.  Abel 
Quantrell  is  now  a  paralytic,  and  can  not  use  his  pen.  The  person 
who  is  his  secretary  is  your  friend  and  your  faithful  wife's. 

"Hannah  Ritner." 

"What  can  it  be.?  "the  poor  fellow  sighed.  "  My  father  and 
Booth  at  work  together  ?  Hannah  Ritner  my  father's  secretary  } 
Poor  father  !  And  O  my  wife ;  what  a  wreck  I  shall  bring  to 
her ! " 

He  looked  at  the  glass,  and  it  told  the  story :  exposure,  men's 
company  alone,  and  the  ravages  of  drink. 

"  O  that  I  were  in  the  grave  with  the  poor  black  fellow  who  died 
for  me !  "  thought  Lloyd,  and  he  lay  upon  the  bed  and  slept. 

It  was  nearly  evening  when  he  was  awakened  by  Booth  and  Dr. 
Mudd  entering  the  room,  and  the  former  apologized  for  having  left 
him  alone  so  long,  saying  : 

"  I  had  a  letter  to  deliver  to  the  doctor  from  your  old  friend  Mar- 
tin, in  Canada,  and  to  make  with  it,  Lloyd,  a  proposition  which  re- 
quired tact,  and  which  I  am  now  about  to  make  to  you." 

He  took  the  candle  and  went  out  of  the  door  and  examined  the 
rooms,  porch,  and  stairway.  Then  he  came  in  and  set  the  candle 
down  and  opened  a  bottle  of  brandy.  As  Lloyd  Quantrell  drank  of 
the  pure  French  liquor,  with  almost  religious  ecstasy,  after  the  raw 
alcohol  he  had  swallowed  for  years,  Booth  looked  him  over  with 
satisfaction  ;  he  was  wrecked  enough,  demonized  enough,  fierce 
enough  by  wolfish  war  and  killing,  to  meet  the  actor's  approval. 

"  Now,  bully,"  said  Quantrell,  as  the  liquor  warmed  his  chilled 
system,  and  he  looked  at  Booth  over  a  great  navy  revolver  he  put 
upon  the  table,  "  I  am  ready  to  listen  to  whatever  dream  you  are 
tempting  that  fool  with." 


468  KATY  OF  CA  roc  TIN. 

He  pointed  to  Dr.  Mudd,  and  looked  at  Booth  without  the  least 
affection  or  confidence  of  old  times. 

"  Lloyd,"  said  the  actor,  leaning  forward  and  speaking  low,  "  I 
have  formed  a  plan  to  give  the  Southern  cause  a  great  advantage. 
Dr.  Mudd  approves  of  it,  and  is  my  first  recruit ;  you  will  be  the 
second.  It  is  to  capture  Abe  Lincoln  alive  in  Washington  and  con- 
vey him  by  swift  relays  to  the  Potomac  and  immediately  send  him  to 
Virginia.  I  know  all  his  goings  and  comings,  am  in  the  inner  circle 
of  his  friends,  and  have  studied  all  the  ground  over  except  this  route, 
which  I  have  selected  through  lower  Maryland,  because  of  the  safe 
crossing  we  have  maintained  here  at  the  river  since  our  independ- 
ence." 

"  Plan  large,"  said  Quantrell,  unexxited,  and  taking  a  drink. 
"  Now,  how.''  " 

"  Lincoln  is  unsuspecting  as  an  idiot ;  rides  to  his  Soldiers'  Home 
retreat  and  other  lonely  country  places  in  a  large  carriage  with  no 
one  but  a  driver,  and  has  neither  a  guard  nor  even  a  weapon.  My 
proposition  is  that  you  and  I,  with  a  few  confederates,  shall  waylay 
him,  shoot  the  driver,  and  get  on  the  carriage,  and,  by  threat  of 
death,  make  Lincoln,  by  showing  his  face  and  bowing  his  assent,  be 
our  passport  out  of  the  city.  All  the  guards  know  his  countenance, 
and  the  Eastern  Branch  is  the  only  guarded  place  we  have  to  pass ; 
there  are  two  bridges  across  this  stream,  and  I  have  tried  them  both, 
and  have  been  allowed  to  go  and  come  repeatedly  without  any  pass 
whatever." 

"  I  am  to  drive,  I  suppose,"  said  Quantrell.  "  and  you  are  to  kill 
him  if  he  is  not  tractable  }     Now  finish  !  " 

"  Dr.  Mudd  says  that  one  Surratt,  who  has  a  tavern  ten  miles 
out  of  town  and  keeps  the  secret  post-office,  can  be  got  to  establish 
the  first  relay  of  horses  at  his  tavern,  or  at  Tee  Bee,  just  below. 
There  we  have  a  choice  of  three  roads  to  come  to  Port  Tobacco, 
and  all  these  roads  have  gates  upon  them,  dividing  the  private  fields. 
For  us  the  gates  will  all  be  open ;  for  our  pursuers  all  closed.* 
Either  at  Beantown  or  near  Piscataway  we  will  have  a  second  relay 
and,  if  necessary,  another  carriage,  well  greased.  If  it  is  more  ex- 
peditious, we  will  tie  Lincoln  on  a  horse,  like  Mazeppa,  and  make 
him  ride.     In  four  hours,  by  hellish  speed,  we  can  make  Port  To- 

*  Until  about  1876  these  private  gates  were  lawful  and  continuous  on  all  the 
roads  leading  south  from  Washington  city. 


THE  ABDUCTION  PLOT. 


469 


bacco  River,  where  we  will  have  a  boat  all  ready  and  men  at  the 
oars,  and  in  a  moment  they  will  be  out  on  the  dark  water,  and 
Virginia  flashing  us  her  signals  in  the  night  across  the  Poto- 
mac !  " 

Dr.  Mudd  listened,  with  his  blue  eyes  twinkling  on  pallid  cheeks, 
and  leaned  forward  to  receive  some  emboldening  from  Quantrell. 

"  What  is  the  recompense  for  this,  provided  it  can  be  done  ?  " 

"  Why,  Lloyd,  our  fame  and  fortune  are  made.  We  will  demand 
the  release  of  every  Confederate  officer  as  fair  exchange  for  Lincoln, 
and  Yankee  money  to  boot  for  the  heroes  of  the  enterprise.  They 
would  give  us  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  !  " 

"It  is  plain  to  be  seen,"  said  Ouantrell,  "  that  you  see  everything 
with  an  actor's  eyes.  What  actors  call  '  effects  '  seem  to  you,  John 
Booth,  common  sense.  You  are  looking  on  Lincoln  as  some  kind 
of  a  king,  without  whom  the  state  can  not  go  on.  Do  you  suppose 
the  great  Yankee  people,  whom  we  expected  to  lick  in  six  months, 
and  who  are  just  beginning  to  fight,  care  a  straw  about  who  is  their 
President }  We  have  taken  away  from  our  President  at  Richmond 
the  control  of  affairs,  and  Lincoln,  too,  has  been  wise  enough  to  let 
Grant  have  absolute  military  control ;  and  all  the  fierce  radicals,  like 
Winter  Davis,  think  they  are  smarter  than  Lincoln.  The  Yankees 
wouldn't  give  you  a  dollar  nor  a  prisoner  of  war  to  return  him. 
After  the  first  sensation  the  rebels  wouldn't  approve  of  the  feat. 
There  are  kind  men  as  well  as  brave  men  in  the  South,  and  gentle- 
men !  Behind  Lincoln  are  ten  thousand  Presidents  among  the 
Yankee  people,  and  he  is  probably  the  superior  of  the  least  of  them 
only  in  a  lawful  tenderness  and  the  yearning  desire  to  make  emanci- 
pation pay  the  cost  of  the  war." 

"  There !  "  said  Dr.  Mudd,  starting  up,  "  I  told  you  he  was  un- 
reliable, because  he  set  his  niggers  free." 

"  Turn  that  man  out,"  said  Quantrell,  taking  more  brandy,  "  after 
he  hears  my  answer.  No!  I  wear  the  gray  uniform  ;  there  is  no 
stain  on  it  but  battle-blood.  Some  day  I  shall  want  to  come  home 
in  honor,  and  be  trusted  of  my  fellow-men.  The  mighty  arms  of 
this  Union,  in  chastising  love,  are  squeezing  the  life  out  of  our 
mutiny,  and  the  end  can  not  be  far  off.  I  would  not,  for  all  the  ap- 
plause you  expect  to  get  for  this  boyish  freak,  John  Booth,  injure 
the  poor  fellows  who  have  fought  with  me,  and  make  the  terms  of 
submission  hard  for  them  !  " 

Booth,  with  twitching  lips  and  looks  sweeping  the  floor,  turned 


470 


KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 


once,  to  see  the  door  shut  behind  Dr.  Mudd  escaping,  and  next  his 
eyes  seemed  to  leap  upon  the  table  where  the  pistol  had  been. 

"  You  don't  find  it  there,"  observed  Quantrell,  dryly,  raising  the 
huge  weapon  from  his  side  and  leveling  it  at  Booth.  "  Hold  up 
your  hands,  or  I'll  kill  you  where  you  stand  !  Turn  your  back 
here ! " 

He  reached  his  left  hand  out  and  took  a  Derringer  pistol  from 
the  actor's  rear  pocket,  and  drew  the  cartridge  from  it,  and  threw 
it  back  to  him.  He  also  corked  the  brandy,  and  put  it  in  his 
pocket. 

"  This  is  for  the  protection  of  both  of  us,"  added  Quantrell,  with 
a  more  polite  inflection.  "  Brandy  ahvays  makes  you  crazy,  John, 
and  you  have  no  business  with  a  pistol  unless  you  want  to  be  an 
assassin.  I  have  lived  beyond  fear,  am  shot  all  to  pieces,  and  to  kill 
a  man  is  hardly  an  event  to  me." 

The  faded,  swollen,  giant  mold  of  the  soldier  with  his  warped 
eyes  carried  an  awe  to  Booth's  brain. 

"  Lloyd,"  he  faltered,  "what  have  I  done.?  " 

"  Nothing,  because  I  anticipated  you,  John.  You  were  going  to 
remind  me  of  a  foolish  oath  that  you,  w'ho  administered  it,  have 
never  kept,  while  I  am  a  ragged  monument  of  my  fidelity.  You 
meant  to  threaten  me  by  that  oath.  Three  times  I  have  invaded 
the  North.  You  never  invaded  anything  more  hostile  than  my 
brother  Bosler's  confidence  and  took  his  girl  away." 

"  Nelly  Harbaugh  ?  Oh,  she  is  a  lizard,  cold  and  ungrateful,  and 
has  thrown  us  both  off." 

"  I  met  her  in  Richmond,"  said  Lloyd,  "  and  know  all  the  story. 
It  has  changed  my  estimate  of  you.  For  that  reason  I  had  Senator 
Pittson  advised,  by  an  exchanged  Yankee  officer,  to  cut  off  your  in- 
timacy with  his  daughter." 

"  You  did  that }  "  cried  Booth,  rising ;  "  I  thought  it  was  Bosler 
himself.     He  has  proposed  to  her,  and  been  refused;  while  I — " 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Quantrell ;  "  I  won't  hear  you,  for  I  might  call  you 
a  liar.  That  girl  is  pure  and  free  as  an  Indian  maid  from  her 
native  lakes  and  forests  in  the  West.  At  one  glimpse  of  your  pol- 
luted life  she  would  fly  from  you.  Her  father  is  not  a  play-actor, 
but  a  statesman,  with  faculties  pure  as  his  daughter's  romance." 

"  Pooh  !  It  was  only  lately  that  he  was  exposed  in  the  Senate 
as  somebody's  bastard  son,  and  never  denied  it — but  rather  gloried 
in  it." 


THE  ABDUCTION  PLOT. 


471 


"  He  is  my  father's  friend  :  I  seek  to  know  no  more.  Have  you, 
John,  a  descent  so  unspotted  that  you  rejoice  in  scandals  Hke 
that  ?  " 

"  My  descent  ?  "  cried  Booth,  proudly  ;  "  the  world  knows  my 
name  and  pedigree  !  " 

Quantrell  looked  at  him  gravely  through  his  weather-beaten 
eyes. 

"  It  is  time  you  respected  better-derived  men,  John  Booth.  All 
your  Hfe  you  have  been  under  the  glamour  of  a  delusion,  and  your 
contempt  for  a  lady  like  Miss  Light  Pittson — your  using,  also,  Miss 
Harbaugh's  ambition  to  destroy  her  happiness — impress  me  that 
the  hour  has  come  to  disenchant  you." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small  gold  ring  and  handed  it  to 
Booth.     The  actor  read  : 

"  J^.  B.  B.,  to  his  wife,  Christifte,  iSij." 

Quantrell's  great  hand  closed  around  the  ring  before  Booth 
could  raise  it  from  near  the  candle-flame. 

"  That  ring,"  pursued  Quantrell,  in  stern  but  respectful  tones. 
"  your  father  wed  his  wife  with.  Your  father  had  a  wife,  whom  he 
deserted  in  London,  to  fly  to  America  with  your  mother.  She  was 
a  simple  Belgian-French  child,  but  was  his  wife  for  thirty-six  years ; 
he  lived  with  her  six  years,  and  never  was  divorced  from  her  until 
you  were  my  playmate,  ten  years  before  this  civil  war  and  all  your 
brethren  born.  Then,  the  day  she  forced  from  your  father,  in  the 
courts  of  Baltimore,  a  confession  of  these  facts,  the  real  marriage  of 
your  parents  could  be  celebrated  for  the  first  time.  It  was  so 
celebrated,  and  that  poor  foreign  woman,  sent  to  America  for  jus- 
tice by  the  actors  of  London,  died  only  the  year  before  we  met 
again  at  John  Brown's  scaffold  !  " 

"  How  came  you  by  this  discovery  and  this  ring,  sir  ?  " 

"Your  half-brother,  your  father's  eldest  son,  came  to  me,  starv- 
ing, to  sell  it !  I  proved  his  tale  by  the  records  of  the  courts,  and 
sent  him  to  Europe,  that  he  might  not  annoy  your  father's  family 
and  you,  my  early  friend." 

Quantrell  arose,  and  said,  in  appeasing  tones : 

"John,  don't  commit  any  act  to  make  men  hate  your  name  and 
bring  these  buried  ghosts  to  life  again !  Go  to  the  tomb  of  Mary 
Christine  Adelaide  Delannoy.  in  the  old  Cathedral  Cemetery  at  Bal- 
timore— the  poor,  abandoned  woman  died  at  sixty-six — and  make 


472 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


your  vow  to  live  a  modest  life,  and  spare  your  mother  and  her  bet- 
ter offspring  the  scandals  you  but  now  rejoiced  in  !  "  * 

He  rose  to  go.  Booth  made  a  constrained  effort  to  detain  him, 
saying : 

"  You  will  eat  with  me  ?  " 

"  Here,"  replied  Quantrell,  taking  an  old  haversack  from  his 
side,  and  showing  its  contents  of  corn-bread  and  bacon,  "  is  the 
ration  common  now  to  negroes  and  heroes.  Your  brandy  I  will 
confiscate ;  that's  always  contraband.  But  Bob  Lee's  orders  in 
Maryland  are  to  take  no  private  property.     I'm  off  for  Virginia." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Booth,  smarting  under  the  exposure  of  his 
amour  propre.  "  The  next  time  you  preach  to  me,  don't  forget  that 
you  have  abandoned  Katy  of  Catoctin,  and  that  if  your  own  father 
don't  marry  her,  that  young  snipe  of  a  priest,  Hugh  Fenwick,  will 
soon  carry  off  your  wife  !  " 

The  soldier  was  already  gone,  but  Booth's  words  stung  his  heart 
to  strange  suspicions.  He  had  sent  all  his  letters  to  Katy  in  Fen- 
wick's  care.  His  father  had  never  sent  him  a  word  or  a  line  since 
his  expatriation.  The  instinct  was  fierce  in  his  soul  to  desert  the 
Confederacy,  and  return  to  Baltimore  and  meet  Fenwick  face  to 
face. 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  they  would  send  me  to  a  military  jail.  If 
Hugh  Fenwick  has  been  false,  I  will  have  his  life !  Something 
tells  me  that  I  have  only  one  friend — that  sorceress,  Hannah  Rit- 
ner. " 

Herold  and  Booth  went  next  day  to  Port  Tobacco,  and  found 
Atzerodt  in  his  retired  wheelwright's  shed,  asleep  in  an  old  family 
carriage   that  was   tumbling  to   pieces.     His   business  had   been 

*  Inscription  in  the  Catholic  Cemetery,  Baltimore  : 
"Jesus,  Mary,  Joseph, 
Pray  for  the  soul  of 
Mary  Christine  Adelaide  Delannoy, 
Wife  of  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  Tragedian. 
She  died  in  Baltimore,  March  the  9th,  1858,"  etc. 
Colonel  Frank  A.   Burr  possesses  the  marital  correspondence  between  J.   B. 
Booth,  Sr.,  and  his  first  wife.     His  cruelty  in  leaving  her  and  his  child  in  Lon- 
don,  without  bread,    suggests  the  heartlessness  of  the  assassin  Booth,  who 
killed  an  inoffensive  man  among  ladies  and  by  his  wife's  side.     As  this  matter 
has  been  fully  exploited  in  the  daily  papers,  I  make  no  apology  for  producing 
it  here,  among  other  preludes  to  the  chief  crime  upon  our  continent.     Edmund 
Kean  contributed  to  send  the  deserted  wife  to  America. 


THE  ABDUCTION  PLOT. 


473 


neglected  for  blockade-running,  and  his  domestic  life  was  concu- 
binage with  a  poor  widow  near  by. 

"  Py  Jing  !  "  said  he,  when  the  proposition  was  mooted  to  him, 
"  I  know  shoost  te  boat.  I  can  make  a  wagon  to  run  like  a 
shtreak  of  greased  lightnin',  and  I  want  money  pad." 

They  rode  together  down  the  west  side  of  Port  Tobacco  River, 
and  on  the  way  Atzerodt  slipped  behind  the  others  furtively,  saying  : 

"  Teres  a  tog  here  at  Carpenter's  dat  I  believe  knows  a  rebel 
from  a  Union  man.  He  comes  for  me  efery  time,  although  I  sold 
him  to  tis  feller." 

As  they  spoke,  a  large  fierce  dog  came  down  to  the  road,  bound- 
ing, looked  at  them  an  instant  and  leaped  the  fence,  and,  hardly 
barking  at  all,  vaulted  in  the  air  at  Booth's  knee.  Atzerodt  slipped 
past  and  whipped  his  horse,  and  the  other  horses  fled  behind  him, 
the  dog  still  rushing  at  Booth's  stirrup,  and  so  they  got  off  with  the 
first  impressions  of  real  war. 

Three  or  four  miles  below  Port  Tobacco,  where  they  could  see 
St.  Thomas's  Manor-house  and  Chapel  Point  beyond  the  broad 
ocean  inlet  which  cut  into  Charles  County  like  the  cleft  of  a  human 
heart,  was  a  house  near  the  water,  and  in  a  ravined  copse  near  it 
Atzerodt  uncovered  a  large  boat  on  low  wheels  and  axles. 

"I  made  tese  wheels,"  said  he.  "Te  Yankee  navy  has  proke 
efery  boat  afloat  to  stop  te  running  of  te  blockade ;  so  we  haul  tis 
one  up  an'  hide  it.  Abe  Lincoln  will  git  to  Fergeenia  so  soon  in  dat 
boat  he  won't  know  it  from  Marylin." 

"  How  far  to  Washington  from  this  spot  ?  "  asked  Booth. 

"  T'irty-six  mile.  If  you  git  dat  old  Abe  at  four  o'clock  in  te 
afternoon,  you  can  make  dis  boat-landing  at  half-past  eight,  and  haf 
him  in  Fergeenia  py  ten." 

"  I'm  going  to  ride  it  to-night  through  Piscataway,"  said  Booth. 

As  they  approached  the  Unionist's  dwelling,  the  alert  dog  came 
out  again,  like  a  faithful  sentinel. 

"I'll  settle  with  him  now!"  the  actor  remarked,  between  his 
teeth,  and  stopped  and  balanced  his  pistol. 

The  dog,  which  seemed  to  be  setter  and  mastiff,  and  old  for  his 
variety,  ran  along  the  inside  of  the  worm-fence  till  opposite  them, 
and  there  vaulted  high  ;  as  he  rose  in  the  air,  Booth's  pistol  was  dis- 
charged, and  the  dog  came  rolling  down  the  slope  dead  as  a  stone.* 

*  Related  to  the  author  by  Thomas  A.  Harbin,  who  was  in  the  abduction 
secret. 


474 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


If  every  Union  sentinel  had  been  like  this  poor  Fritz,  whom  John 
Brown  had  also  left  to  guard  his  cabin,  the  road  which  spies  and  as- 
sassins traveled  so  long  might  now  have  a  sweet  and  peaceful  name. 

"  So  Abe  Lincoln  shall  die  by  this  pistol,"  exclaimed  Booth,  "  if 
other  measures  fail  to  bring  him  !  And  now,  both  of  you  " — he 
slipped  another  cartridge  in  the  Derringer,  and  held  the  pistol  up  in 
his  right  hand — "  hold  up  your  hands  and  say  what  I  shall  say,  and 
swear.  Which  of  you  refuses,  dies  like  that  dog,  and  his  life  I  will 
have  at  any  time  he  dares  to  disobey  me  or  betray  me  !  You  both 
possess  my  secret — you  both  know  what  the  'oil-business'  means." 

The  smoking  weapon  in  his  hand,  his  pale  face  and  obdurate 
expression,  and  deep  tragedy  voice,  made  Atzerodt's  stomach  grow 
faint,  and  he  hardly  had  the  strength  to  raise  his  arm. 

Herold  was  rather  seized  with  admiration,  and  a  blushing  grin 
marked  his  countenance  as  he  held  his  hand  up. 

"  You  swear,"  said  Booth,  "  never  to  leave  this  enterprise,  never 
to  tell  of  it,  to  live  and  die  in  it,  under  the  penalty  of  death  in  this 
world  and  hell  in  the  next,  for  which  you  entreat — so  help  you 
God  !  " 

The  mastery  of  Booth  over  both  of  them  he  felt  to  be  complete. 
All  the  way  back  to  Port  Tobacco  they  were  nearly  silent,  and  there 
he  dismissed  them,  with  instructions  to  call  on  him  in  the  capital 
city,  at  the  National  Hotel,  and  turned  his  horse  toward  Wash- 
ington. 

Over  this  same  road,  but  sixty-five  years  before,  a  galloping  serv- 
ant had  come  to  get  a  doctor  for  the  dying  Father  of  his  Country, 
and  Booth  could  see  Dr.  Brown's  old  house  overhanging  the  Port 
Tobacco  River ;  and,  as  he  approached  Piscataway  in  the  shades  of 
evening,  he  saw  Mount  Vernon  across  the  wide  water  of  the  Poto- 
mac, and  fancied  he  could  almost  hear  the  steamers  on  the  river  toll 
their  passing  bells.  Not  the  smallest  idea  entered  his  head  that  the 
man  he  meant  to  pursue  would  subdue  the  heart  of  the  whole  world 
by  his  love,  as  Washington  had  done  by  his  dignity. 

As  he  passed  out  of  the  ruined  town  of  Piscataway,  whose  old 
brick  chimneys  stood  houseless,  like  the  widowers  of  many  wives, 
he  noted  the  long,  red-brick  Catholic  church,  with  green  shutters 
and  yellow  cupola,  and  under  the  wooden  cross  in  its  gable  the 
words : 

"  Come  unto  me  all  you  that  labor  and  are  hcaxy  laden,  and  I 
■will  refresh  you." 


THE  BAND. 


475 


Two  ladies  came  out  of  the  churchyard  with  the  priest,  and  drove 
away  in  a  country  carriage.  Booth  looked  respectfully  at  them,  and 
said  to  the  priest : 

"  Father,  who  are  those  pleasing  ladies?  " 

"  That  is  Mrs.  Surratt  and  her  daughter,  sir,  who  formerly  lived 
close  by,  but  have  removed  to  Washington." 

*'  Isn't  there  a  son  in  that  family.''  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  Mr.  John.  He's  the  widow's  only  stay  now.  His 
brother  is  in  Texas — perhaps  in  the  Confederate  army." 

As  Booth  took  the  straight  river  road,  he  thought  of  the  inscrip- 
tion over  the  old  church  many  times :  "  Come  unto  me,  and  I  will 
refresh  you  "  ;  or,  as  the  Protestants  have  it,  "  I  will  give  you  rest." 
"  Ah  !  "  he  said — as  in  the  night,  at  quite  ten  o'clock,  he  saw  from 
the  Insane  Hospital  slope  the  lights  of  Washington  flash  across  the 
Eastern  Branch — "  I  don't  Hke  this  abduction  plan  as  well  as  my 
hint  about  the  back  of  the  theatre.  I  must  have  the  performance 
actable  !" 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  asked  the  guard  at  the  bridge.  "  You 
are  coming  back  pretty  late." 

"  Lloyd  Quantrell,"  answered  Booth. 

The  guard  took  down  the  name  in  a  book,  and  said : 

"  Pass  over,  sir." 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

THE   BAND. 

As  Abel  Quantrell  and  Katy,  his  ward,  were  playing  cards  at 
the  window  in  Old  Town — money  invariably  staked,  for  Abel  gam- 
bled as  he  battled,  for  realities — John  W.  Booth  went  past  with  two 
slouchy,  inferior  men. 

"  Sam  Arnold  and  Michael  O'Laughlin  !  "  reflected  Hannah  Rit- 
ner,  aloud.  "  O'LaughHn  deserted  from  the  rebel  army  at  South 
Mountain  to  escape  fighting  at  Antietam.  He  was  Booth's  school- 
mate and  Booth's  mother's  tenant.  That  Arnold  also  went  to  the 
war  for  loot,  and  his  name  is  a  common  one  in  mountain  Maryland. 
But  what  companions  !  " 

"  The  square  of  his  father,"  said  Abel  Quantrell,  speaking  with 
difficulty — "  who  was,  Hannah,  a  man  of  soft  whims,  but  his  delight 


476  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

was  to  be  the  Hector  of  low  and  boozing  inferiors.  He  would  wait 
at  a  three-cent  liquor-saloon  for  the  police-station  to  discharge  its 
vagrant  lodgers — men,  often,  of  some  social  past,  but  ruined  by- 
drink  and  the  habits  of  slavery — and  there  he  would  set  the  brandy 
up  and  inveigh,  recite,  and  squander  the  gifts  of  beauty  and  temper- 
ament upon  those  swine  by  the  hour  and  the  day."* 

"Aunt  Hannah,"  said  Hugh  Fenwick,  "the  soldier  who  calls 
himself  Payne,  or  Powell,  has  been  here,  asking  for  you.  He  has  again 
deserted  from  Mosby's  or  Gilmore's  band,  and  taken  the  oath." 

"  I  can  not  help  him,"  said  Hannah  Ritner ;  "  for  a  while  I  thought 
he  had  a  modest  heart,  but  the  murderer  was  there,  although  he  had 
a  preacher  for  his  father.  He  beat  the  poor  colored  woman  where 
he  lodged  in  Baltimore,  and  was  compelled  by  the  provost  to  go 
north  of  the  city.  He  stamped  upon  her  like  a  demon  because  she 
would  not  clean  his  room  in  an  instant.  I  fear  that  so  many  of 
these  whipped  but  not  penitent  men,  between  the  lines — this  city  is 
full  of  them — will  become  fire  for  some  evil  tinder.  Who  is  this 
Mrs.  Surratt  you  visit.  Fenwick  }  " 

"  A  widow,  with  a  fairer  daughter.  She  is  not  very  deep,  had  an 
old  husband,  and  may  not  be  averse  to  a  young  one." 

"  There  is  her  danger,"  Hannah  Ritner  mused  ;  "  conspiracy  can 
hide  beneath  love  like  the  copper-snake  under  the  blueberry-bush. 
Do  you  believe  Lloyd  Quantrell  has  entered  Washington  ?  " 

"  The  guard  took  that  name  down  as  he  crossed  the  bridge." 

"  It  was  not  Lloyd,"  spoke  Katy  Bosler.  Her  German  accent 
was  all  gone  now,  and  only  the  beaming  eyes  expressed  a  discom- 
posure. Lovely  and  refined  by  study  and  society  she  had  grown. 
Her  lover's  father  looked  at  her  and  said  : 

"  Do  you  maintain  that  traitor  to  be  true  to  anything  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  his  father,  if  not  to  me." 

"  Look  at  this  young  man  who  has  waited  upon  you  almost  four 
years — sedate,  religious,  tender  as  a  girl — what  comparison  does 
your  betrayer  bear  to  him?  Give  him  your  hand,  while  still  the 
fugitive  holds  out  against  every  natural  affection,  and  let  him  return 
to  find  love  sealed  forever  against  his  claims." 

The  old  man  had  staggered  up  and  sustained  himself  on  Fen- 
wick's  broad  shoulder,  and  the  coarse  lines  returned  to  his  fallen 
mouth  as  he  strove  to  close  it  hard.     The  divinity-student  looked 

*  Mr.  William  Wilkison's  recollections  of  Booth,  the  elder. 


THE   BAND. 


477 


at  Katy  in  modest  reverence  and  respect,  his  red  and  white  colors 
healthy  as  the  peach-skin — his  habits  adapted  to  all  degrees  and 
sects. 

"  Miss  Kate,"  said  Fenwick,  "  I  broke  my  heart  to  unite  you  to 
another  one.  It  has  healed  under  your  forgiveness  and  confidence. 
We  have  pursued  our  studies  together,  and  grown  in  unison  of 
mind — I  hope,  of  soul.  When  will  you  let  me  restore  you  to  your 
father  as  my  wife  .''  " 

Katy  stood  with  quiet  grace,  hearing  this  speech,  and  all  watch- 
ing her  closely. 

"  I  want  the  truth,"  she  said.  "  I  have  heard  you,  Hugh,  tell 
one  falsehood.  Lloyd  Quantrell  never  has.  His  going  to  the  war 
against  his  father's  wishes  shows  the  rude  sincerity  of  the  man. 
Why  he  never  writes  to  me  I  can't  tell.  Maybe  he's  tired  of  a 
child's  love,  or  is  waiting  for  the  war  to  end,  and  to  see  me  again 
with  eyes  of  understanding.  I  have  tried  to  raise  myself  to  his 
mind.  He  may  come  back,  unworthy  of  my  troubles,  and  leave  me 
free  to  enjoy,  as  your  pupil  still,  the  world  of  intellect  displayed  by 
the  tenderest  friendship." 

A  slight  movement  of  her  head  toward  him  indicated  a  prefer- 
ence for  his  society. 

"  The  test  shall  be,"  spoke  Hannah  Ritner,  "  to  set  you,  Fen- 
wick, and  Lloyd  Quantrell,  face  to  face  !  " 

"  I  never  can  fear  that  test,"  the  demi-clerical  spoke,  with  cheeks 
where  the  roses  had  suddenly  flown. — "  Brother  Abel,  your  friends, 
the  nuns,  are  at  the  door." 

A  trio  of  nuns  came  in  and  made  themselves  sociable,  and  Abel 
Quantrell  allowed  prayers  to  be  offered  for  him  in  his  afflicted  state. 
He  liked  women  better  than  men,  but  liked  his  indignations  best  of 
all ;  and  among  these  last  was  a  hatred  of  the  Napoleons — singu- 
larly enough,  for  their  treatment  of  their  wives — and  the  pope  had 
refused  to  divorce  the  brother  of  Napoleon  from  his  Baltimore  wife 
at  the  emperor's  demand.  So  Abel  Quantrell,  with  a  swerving 
against  power  everywhere,  had  become  a  favorite  and  patron  of  the 
Sisters  of  Charity,  and  the  less  ascetic  monastic  orders,  hke  the 
Visitation  Nuns,  who  were  now  engaged  in  the  gradual  work  of 
converting  him — the  more  desirously,  because  his  political  opinions 
had  come  to  rule  the  land.  He,  resisting  authority,  and  they,  shel- 
tering under  it,  proved  that  extremes  often  meet. 

It  was  Hugh  Fenwick,  in  pursuance  of  his  amateur  diversions, 


478  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

who  set  on  this  conversion  ;  but  the  old  man,  in  his  enfeebling  age, 
grasped  only  the  worldly  part  of  the  proposition — that  he,  or  some- 
body, might  convert  the  pope  to  proclaim  for  The  People  ever\-where. 
For  the  heaven  of  blessedness  they  promised  him  he  did  not  care, 
nor  greatly  for  his  worldly  fame  ;  but  the  idea  of  taking  the  most 
reactionary  engine  in  the  world,  as  he  esteemed  it,  and  running  it 
forward,  gave  to  his  own  mind  a  light  of  satyr  joy.  If  Pepin  and 
Rienzi  and  Hildebrand  had  seized  Rome,  why  could  not  a  Yankee 
do  the  same,  and  batter  aristocracies  down  with  a  crozier  ? 

Thus  they  prayed  together,  unavowedly,  for  the  trophies  of  this 
world — the  ecclesiastics  to  add  an  important  radical  to  their  pantheon, 
and,  perhaps,  get  their  share  of  appropriations ;  the  old  agitator,  to 
reverse  Rome,  and  use  it  on  this  earth  for  democracy. 

Katy,  alone,  prayed  to  God  for  justice  and  mercy,  kneeling  among 
the  rest. 

When  Abel  Quantrell  had  received  the  kisses  and  benedictions 
of  the  gratified  Sisters,  and  all  had  gone,  he  turned  to  his  ward  and 
said: 

"  What  did  you  pray  ?  " 

"  To  give  God  your  soul,  and  let  it  eat  the  bread  of  love." 

"  Through  whom  ?  " 

"  Father,  I  tried  to  say  through  God's  Son ;  but  into  my  mouth 
kept  coming  the  words  and  the  face  of  your  own  son,  Lloyd.  Oh  ! 
yield  your  heart  to  forgiveness  of  our  poor  wanderer,  and  the  Son 
of  Heaven  will  come  there  too,  like  Jesus  and  the  dove  to  the  water 
of  John's  baptism." 

As  she  looked,  a  tear  came  down  his  cheek,  that  all  the  pursing 
and  folding  of  his  lips  could  not  retard. 

With  a  scream  of  joy,  Katy  kissed  the  old  man's  eyes. 

"  My  prayer  is  answered  !  "  she  cried.     "  You  love  your  boy  !  " 

"Let  him  stand  the  rest  of  the  test,"  old  Abel  Quantrell  said; 
"  the  war  is  nearly  done," 

Mr.  Booth,  meantime,  had  been  demonstrating  his  social  and 
business  resources  to  create  a  band  of  abductors.  He  sounded  two 
or  three  actors  of  Maryland  stock  ;  but  they  imputed  any  war  scheme 
of  his  to  the  drink  he  was  taking  so  freely,  and  Ned  Spangler  was 
the  nearest  he  could  come  to  a  convert. 

While  tliis  poor,  imbruted  carpenter  worked  at  Ford's  Theatre, 
Booth  would  slip  in  and  study  the  situation  of  afternoons,  try  the 


THE  BAND. 


479 


lighting  apparatus,  to  plunge  the  auditorium  in  profound  darkness 
or  blazing  light,  pace  the  length  of  the  stage  and  of  the  aisles  to  the 
back  door,  and  sometimes  come  leaping  down  from  the  upper  box 
to  the  stage-floor,  like  a  trapeze-performer. 

This  leap  might  have  been  made  by  many  a  lad  for  a  wager  or 
exercise,  and  a  gymnast  would  esteem  it  no  hard  matter ;  the  gym- 
nasium had  prepared  Booth  for  some  great  public  exhibition  of  this 
kind  of  prowess  in  which  he  excelled  all  actors,  though  many  of 
these  kept  up  their  physical  training  for  the  death-scenes,  wrestles, 
and  combats  so  rife  in  the  dramas  of  a  sword-wearing  age ;  but 
"  the  jump  "  was  Booth's  monopoly,  he  being  light  and  flexible  in 
the  ankles  and  knees,  and  with  a  bow-legged  tendency,  which  en- 
abled him  to  drop  akimbo  after  he  had  stepped  limberly. 

How  much  of  his  ultimate  black  deed  is  traceable  to  his  passion 
for  strength  for  brutal  ends  a  prize-fighter  might  guess.  The  fact 
that  he  could  so  leap  from  a  high  place  invested  his  purpose  with  a 
public  ambition  he  never  could  shake  off,  and  materially  weakened 
his  interest  in  the  original  abduction  design. 

The  theatre  would  give  him  an  audience  which  a  highway  as- 
sault could  not  afford  ;  it  was  really  the  safer  place  of  the  two,  from 
the  entire  novelty  of  its  selection  and  his  superior  knowledge  of  its 
exits,  and  the  ignorance  of  the  public  of  there  being  any  rear  avenue 
from  a  theatre,  or  conversance  with  such  a  purely  professional  path  ; 
and,  more  than  this,  to  abduct  the  President  from  the  theatre  would 
make  but  one  hero  of  the  act.  Booth  was  jealous  of  giving  other 
men  fame  by  his  idea. 

The  miserable  parcel  of  country  tools  he  had  assembled  w^ould 
do  to  drive  the  vehicle  from  the  back  of  the  theatre,  and  could  be 
kept  unseen  over  the  foot-lights.  He  had  the  full  run  of  Ford's  The- 
atre by  intimacy  with  nearly  all  its  people ;  the  man  was  found  in 
Spangler  to  do  his  more  sneaking  work  within  it ;  where  could  he 
get  an  actor,  filling  a.  part  at  the  moment,  to  catch  the  President 
when  Booth  should  throw  him  from  the  upper  box  and  leap  down 
after  him  and  drag  him  down  the  dark  aisles  to  the  back  door .''  * 

*  "  Booth  urged  that  the  part  I  would  have  to  play  would  be  a  very  easy 
affair  and  was  sure  to  succeed,  but  needed  some  one  connected  or  acquainted 
with  the  theatre." — S.  K.  Chester,  actor. 

"  I  asked  Arnold  what  his  part  was  to  be  ;  he  said  he  was  to  catch  the  Presi- 
dent when  he  was  thrown  out  of  the  box  at  the  theatre." — E.  G.  Horner's  testi- 
mony. 


48o 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


There  was  manifestly  no  such  ruffian,  with  intelligence  enough 
to  be  an  actor,  except  this  man  himself. 

No  sense  of  his  hospitality  as  an  actor,  and  the  son  and  brother 
of  actors,  ever  occurred  to  him,  when  considering  how  to  earn  a 
mean  distinction  by  thus  brutalizing  the  theatre  of  his  friends  and 
dragging  an  elderly  magistrate  across  its  boards  though  an  invited 
guest.  The  hospitality  of  the  Bedouin  Arab  this  gypsy  could  not 
feel  in  his  native  tent. 

The  tatterdemalions  he  assembled  came  easily  enough.  Dr. 
Mudd  brought  him  the  widow  Surratt's  son,  originally  a  modest 
country  boy,  now  inflated  by  some  experience  as  a  civilian  spy  and 
secret-mail  carrier,  and  who  had  known  no  other  employment  in 
all  the  multiform  opportunities  on  either  side  of  that  war,  except 
in  the  little  tavern  and  bar  of  his  mother,  ten  miles  from  Wash- 
ington. 

Through  this  son  of  twenty-two,  Booth  gained  access  to  the 
widow's  little  boarding-house  in  an  obscure  yet  central  part  of  Mr. 
Lincoln's  capital,  only  six  street  blocks  from  Ford's  Theatre  and  six 
from  Booth's  hotel. 

It  may  have  been  the  only  respectable  house  the  actor  visited  in 
that  full  city ;  and  the  only  friends  of  the  family  were  some  country 
farmers,  and  priests,  and  people  off  the  courses  of  public  life. 

Fenwick  alone  among  the  visitors  there  could  have  exposed 
Booth's  insidious  relations  to  the  softer  sex.  He  knew  the  two  or 
three  boarders  there  who  wgre  all  of  his  religious  profession,  and 
who  gave  a  scanty  living  to  the  family,  where  the  actor's  advent  was 
the  sensation  of  its  dull  existence. 

There  was  the  widow,  older  than  Booth,  but  in  full  health  and 
bright  color ;  and  the  widow's  daughter,  agreeable  to  the  eye  and  the 
mind ;  and  the  actor  seemed  to  be  rich,  influential,  manly,  and  even 
beautiful.  Booth  took  the  son,  by  the  mother's  help,  from  his  first 
occupation,  in  an  express-office,  where  he  had  just  entered  upon  an 
honest  livelihood,  and  sent  him  to  obtain  persons  for  the  abduction 
scheme  in  the  vicinity  of  Port  Tobacco ;  some  of  these  the  govern- 
ment afterward  considered  beneath  responsibility  and  let  them  go, 
or  never  discovered  them. 

The  plot  at  one  time  had  quite  a  show  of  names  in  it,  but  the 
contingent  was  always  the  largest  at  the  distant  end,  where  running 
instead  of  fighting  was  to  be  the  task  ;  for  no  person  higher  endowed 
than  a  ruffian  or  tramp  cared  to  earn  the  precarious  livelihood  of 


THE   BAND,  48 1 

Booth's  bounty  and  be  scouting  in  the  army-mired  lanes  of  a  pleas- 
ant city  in  the  winter  at  the  behoof  of  a  theatrical  speculator. 

Generally  speaking,  all  who  were  in  the  contraband  mail  and 
carrying  business,  on  both  sides  of  the  Potomac,  knew  that  some- 
thing sensational  was  coming. 

The  manager  of  this  motley  company  was  alarmed  lest  his  copy- 
right should  be  invaded  by  some  other  adventurer,  and  on  one  occa- 
sion his  hirelings  reported  that  a  plot  had  been  overheard  in  a  hotel, 
nearly  like  that  of  his  abduction.  He  swore  his  men  by  oaths,  at 
once  theatrical  and  practical,  only  after  he  had  awakened  their  cupid- 
ity by  often-postponed  explanations  :  the  part  of  the  oath  they  kept 
in  mind  was  that  they  would  be  pursued  for  life  and  assassinated  if 
found  false  ;  and  he  at  times  observed  to  them  that  they  were  in  his 
power,  and  had  already  done  enough  to  be  justly  hanged  by  the  army 
within  whose  lines  they  spied  and  confederated. 

Booth,  in  fact,  saw  that  the  President's  death  was  a  very  prob- 
able incident  of  the  abduction,  and  he  labored  to  draw  the  courage 
of  his  satellites  up  to  that  philosophy.  But  one  of  his  Baltimore 
recruits,  Arnold,  who  had  the  only  good  countenance  in  the  party, 
reflecting  on  the  matter  more  and  more,  finally  took  the  position,  in 
a  meeting  of  the  band,  six  or  seven  in  number,  that  if  Booth  meant 
to  play  fair,  he  should  go  ahead  and  capture  the  President,  or  release 
them  all  from  their  obligations.  This  was  the  only  man  steady 
enough  to  earn  a  living,  and,  although  Booth  turned  on  him  and 
swore  he  ought  to  die,  the  man  maintained  his  point,  and  soon  after 
got  away. 

The  morale  of  all  the  band  would  have  broken  early  but  for  their 
absolute  dependence  on  the  actor  for  mental  occupation,  employ- 
ment, and  drink.  He  had  bought  two  or  three  horses,  and  went  rid- 
ing among  them,  spying  out  the  President's  ways  and  experiment- 
ing with  parts  of  the  route  of  flight,  and  at  least  twice  again  he  went 
down  to  Mudd's,  exciting  that  weak,  bitter  person  with  golden 
prospects  or  alarms.  Money,  indeed,  was  the  object  of  everybody 
taken  into  Booth's  confidence ;  and  he,  after  arousing  that  hope, 
marveled  that  it  was  the  only  vitality  his  enterprise  had.  Nobody 
seemed  heartily  to  hate  Mr.  Lincoln  but  himself,  and  he  did  so 
because  the  President's  mildness  had  laid  him  open  to  an  animal's 
passions. 

As  the  beast  hates  the  lamb,  attacking  the  weakest  after  observ- 
ing it.  Booth's  carnal  appetite  had  fallen  on  Lincoln  because  he  was 


482 


KATY  OF  CATOCTLV. 


the  softest  enemy  in  nature  and  speech,  and  had  sought  the  moral 
pathways  through  the  physical  warfare,  to  ends  beyond  the  lusts  of 
victory.  Booth  could  not  formulate  this,  though  he  felt  it ;  the  bully 
always  detects  the  magistrate  by  something  above  the  common  in 
him :  Mr.  Lincoln's  tender  strains,  used  in  the  affirmation  of  human 
brotherhood  and  final  rights,  had  affected  Booth  like  a  woman's 
hymns  heard  by  the  painted,  ambushed  savage ;  to  his  doctrines 
and  qualities  they  seemed  atheistical ;  they  involved  consideration 
for  a  "  nigger,"  and  touched  the  core  of  the  war. 

Besides,  Mr.  Lincoln  was  the  ruling  foe  and  name  to  the  scornful 
thousands  and  the  illiterate  millions  who  contended  against  him,  and 
Booth  had  once  been  a  favorite  among  these,  and  would  be  again  a 
hero.  He  knew  their  impulses,  but  he  could  not  foresee  their  edu- 
cation, and  he  did  not  know  that  the  calamities  of  war  bring  resig- 
nation, in  which  a  better  humanity  is  bom. 

The  young  Surratt,  a  long,  sunken-eyed  youth,  grew  also  doubt- 
ful about  the  public  reward  from  the  insurgent  side  for  the  contem- 
plated outrage,  and  was  perhaps  dissatisfied  with  Booth's  influence 
under  his  mother's  roof.  That  house  was  being  used  too  much  by  the 
conspirators  not  to  awaken  there  the  wonder  of  a  government  clerk 
or  two,  who  saw  the  well-dressed  actor,  mature  in  all  his  bearing, 
call  often  in  the  little  parlor  at  the  top  of  a  high  ladder  of  wooden 
steps,  and  next  in  the  hostess's  private  room,  and  have  long,  confi- 
dential talks  with  her ;  and,  as  the  son  worked  out  of  the  original 
plot,  the  mother  was  taken,  in,  and  proved  the  sincerest  recruit. 

The  hand  that  touched  hers  expressed  a  confidence,  the  eyes 
which  drew  so  near  her  beamed  an  interest,  the  tone  lowered  to  her 
ear  sounded  so  much  will  and  half-filial,  half-passionate  respect,  that 
she  obeyed  with  almost  the  joy  of  the  affianced.  She  at  first  had 
feared  and  objected  to  any  perilous  adventure  for  her  boy ;  but  he 
was  not  as  scrupulous  of  her  mighty  hazard ;  although  many  a  female 
spy  had  been  sent  to  the  prisons,  to  be  exploited  and  released, 
until,  in  the  blind  belief  that  the  American  Government  was  too 
gentle  to  punish  a  woman,  these  knights  and  squires  from  the  gutter 
played  a  woman's  life  against  the  ruler's,  and  ran  away  and  left  her 
with  all  the  evidence  piled  around  her. 

Into  this  little  house  Booth  sent  his  fellow-assassin  to  call  upon 
the  son,  and  have  the  mother  find  him  lodgings  in  Ford's  Theatre 
block — a  giant  brute  entering  there  by  the  name  of  Woods,  tried 
under  the  name  of  Payne,  but  really  named  Pov^'ell.     He  was  hardly 


THE  BAND.  483 

twenty  years  old,  the  son  of  a  slave-owning  preacher  in  the  Gulf 
States,  and  dyed  in  civil  war  since  his  boyhood,  at  first  in  regular 
warfare — till  Hannah  Ritner  found  him  at  Gettysburg— and  after 
that  a  partisan  horseman  among  the  Potomac  valleys,  learning  guer- 
rilla feats.  He  deserted  and  returned  to  Baltimore,  and,  tortured 
for  money  to  meet  his  expenses,  he  brutally  beat  his  chambermaid, 
and  was  sent  to  the  provost-marshal  as  a  misbehaving  prisoner,  and 
ordered  to  live  north  of  Baltimore. 

In  that  instant  of  despair,  a  deserter  from  one  side,  a  "  suspect  " 
upon  the  other,  without  money,  clothes,  or  address,  he  heard  his 
name  called  at  twilight  by  a  beautiful-faced  man  on  the  steps  of 
Barnum's  Hotel,  past  which  this  Payne  was  dragging  himself,  a 
homeless  tramp. 

"  Booth,  is  that  you  ?     I  want  bread  ;  I  am  starving  !  " 

"  You  are  the  very  man  I  want.  I'll  give  you  money,  to  go  into 
business  with  me,  if  you'll  swear  to  stick ;  it's  in  the  oil-business."  * 

This  butcher  of  twenty  was  what  Booth  needed  to  conclude  or 
intensify  his  project ;  and  in  that  man,  of  weak  cultivation  and  easily 
frenzied  brain,  he  poured  his  subtilest  distillations,  awoke  the  sub- 
sided sentiment  of  revenge,  carried  him  up  and  down  Washington 
and  Alexandria  to  see  lost  or  gutted  dwellings  deserted  by  their 
former  owners  in  the  fell  suicide  of  party  or  sectional  passion,  and 
pointed  out  the  houses  of  the  President  and  Cabinet  as  the  authors 
of  the  war.  The  barbarian  aroused  himself,  like  the  gladiator  to 
whom  Nero  gave  the  torch  while  accusing  the  Christians.  Payne 
trembled  and  raged,  and  Booth  adjured  him  never  to  let  such  men 
be  victorious. 

As  has  been  said.  Booth  was  the  first,  perhaps  the  only,  actor 
Payne  had  seen  at  Richmond  before  hostilities,  while  the  slave  States 
were  arming;  and,  after  that  play,  with  proud  self-confidence,  he 
had  sought  the  actor  out,  and  found  him  easily  won  by  his  inferiors  ; 
and  now,  after  four  years  of  separation,  the  intimacy  is  renewed, 
when  the  reckless  soldier  is  Booth's  pupil  and  pauper,  eating  the 
bread  of  him  who  gives  him  also  a  stone. 

At  last  the  intentions  of  Booth  were  revealed,  and  the  murderer, 
long  glutted  with  blood,  yearns  for  more. 

"  Now,"  said  Booth,  "  that  I  have  seduced  a  soldier,  I'll  take 
Abe  Lincoln  as  it  suits  me,  and  let  these  country  louts  and  lunch- 
fiends  quit,  or  make  them  obey." 

*  Argument  of  Payne's  counsel,  W.  E.  Doster. 


484  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Something  mysterious  was  happening  in  the  great  victim's  favor. 
By  pn'ing  into  the  circle  of  his  grooms,  Herold,  who  had  been  an 
apothecary's  clerk  where  the  President's  family  bought  medicine,* 
several  times  anticipated  the  times  and  routes  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  driv- 
ing excursions,  and  the  band  started  out  with  horses,  arms,  and 
cords  supplied  by  Booth,  but  never  found  the  President  where  they 
went.  Again  and  again  this  information  was  obtained,  only  to  prove 
false.  The  weaker  spirits  began  to  feel  superstitious  on  the  subject, 
and  Surratt  discovered  that  the  government  was  building  a  stockade 
at  the  bridge  to  lower  Maryland,  menacing  an  attack  from  outside, 
and  he  wanted  to  withdraw. 

Booth  observed  that  Major  Luther  Bosler  was  often  riding  on 
the  roads  he  and  his  tools  took  at  such  times,  and  the  thought 
of  treachery  somewhere,  other  than  his  own,  discomposed  his 
mind. 

Besides,  the  abduction  plot  was  too  expensive,  and  the  coinci- 
dence of  an  opportunity  and  of  the  relays  and  boats  to  be  set  for  the 
event  was  very  unreliable.  His  character  was  running  down,  from 
the  public  observation  of  his  low  companions  and  of  the  low  mail- 
stage  inns  and  saloons  he  frequented  with  them,  and  by  the  alcohol 
he  drank  while  evolving  a  mathematical  problem  from  an  empty 
mind.  The  season  that  winter  and  spring  was  severe,  and  the  clay 
roads  of  lower  Maryland  were  almost  impassable,  so  that,  when  the 
band  seemed  ready  above,  word  would  come  from  below  to  post- 
pone the  deed. 

But  nothing  was  retarding  the  magnificent  campaign  of  Liberty. 
On  January  31,  1865,  the  lower  House  of  Congress,  after  more  than 
two  years'  debate  and  delay,  passed  the  amendment  abolishing 
slavery,  Maryland  giving  it  four  votes  out  of  five,  led  by  Mr.  Davis, 
and  ended  by  the  Congressman  from  Booth's  own  native  town ;  t 
and  after  that  the  rebellion  lived  only  four  months — Savannah,  Co- 
lumbia, Charleston,  Wilmington  falling,  as  the  great  scythe  of  Sher- 
man moved  like  the  rainbow  of  a  comet  onward — and  meantime 
Abraham  Lincoln  stood  before  his  countrymen  to  be  inaugurated 
again. 

A  brilliant  star  stood  at  midday  in  the  sky,  following  clouds  and 

*  Thompson's  drug-store,  one  square  east  of  the  President's  mansion  ;  Her- 
old there  discharged,  July  4,  1863. 

t  Edwin  H.  Webster,  of  Belair.  The  only  Marylander  to  oppose  it  came 
from  the  counties  below  Washington. 


THE  BAND.  435 

rain,*  as  the  great  procession  went  up  to  the  Capitol.  In  the  train 
of  the  President  hung  Booth  and  his  band  on  horseback,  with  a 
scheme  to  hitch  to  the  President's  carriage  and  gallop  away  with  it, 
but  a  single  glimpse  of  the  actual  scene  had  destroyed  this  theory. 

The  President,  before  the  grand  assemblage  of  his  sovereigns — 
the  now  equal  and  consistent  people  — stood  lofty  and  history- 
wrinkled,  confronted  by  thousands  of  his  maimed  and  crutched  sol- 
diery, shedding  tears  before  his  face,  as  the  knights  of  the  Crusade 
wept  at  the  sight  of  Jerusalem  and  its  shrine.  He  kissed  the  Bible, 
after  the  roar  of  voices,  at  the  words— 

"  Whose  arrows  are  sharp,  and  all  their  bows  bent ;  their  horses' 
hoofs  shall  be  counted  like  flint."  t 

The  President  spoke  as  words  can  never  speak  without  a  great 
event  behind  them,  or  a  destiny  following  near. 

"  Each  side,"  said  he,  "looked  four  years  ago  for  an  easier  tri- 
umph, and  a  result  less  fundamental  and  astounding.  .  .  .  With 
high  hopes  for  the  future,  no  prediction  in  regard  to  it  is  ventured. 
.  .  .  With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with  firmness  in 
the  right  as  God  gives  us  to  see  the  right,  let  us  finish  the  work  we 
are  in,  to  bind  up  the  nation's  wounds,  to  care  for  him  who  shall 
have  borne  the  battle,  and  for  his  widow  and  his  orphans,  to  do  all 
which  may  achieve  and  cherish  a  just  and  lasting  peace  among  our- 
selves and  with  all  nations." 

These  words,  the  last  preceding  his  solemn  oath,  enemies  might 
have  felt  the  nobleness  of;  but  as  the  President  walked  back  through 
the  Rotunda  of  the  Capitol  a  man  stood  in  his  path  dressed  in  a  rowdy 
imitation  of  an  officer's  clothes,  and  striving  hard  to  get  to  the  front 
of  a  cordon  of  people  who  themselves  opened  an  avenue  for  their 
Chief  Magistrate. 

It  was  Booth,  full  of  brandy  and  self-comparison,  moody  under 
the  expenses  of  his  band,  and  suddenly  seized  with  the  idea  that  he 
could  also  inaugurate  himself  this  day  and  take  the  first  page  in  his- 
tory-t 

*  Arnold's  "  Lincoln,"  pa^e  401. 

t  Marked  by  Mrs.  Lincoln,  where  his  lips  touched  the  book. 

t  "He  exclaimed,  striking:  the  table,  'What  an  excellent  chancel  had  to 
kill  the  President,  if  I  had  wished,  on  Inauguration-day  ! '  He  said  he  was  as 
near  the  President  on  that  day  as  he  was  to  me.  This  he  said  on  Friday,  the 
7th  of  April,  one  week  previous  to  the  assassination,"— Testimony  of  S.  K. 
Chester,  actor. 


486 


KATY  OF  CATOCriN. 


In  his  long  boot-leg  was  a  knife  ;  in  his  overcoat-pocket  a  pistol, 
covered  by  his  right  hand. 

He  pressed  along  and  had  broken  through  the  front  line  amid 
some  confusion  and  resistance,  and  his  white  face,  with  black  jewels 
in  it  and  cruel  teeth  sparkling,  expressed  a  sinister  purpose. 

The  President  came  along  in  cloak,  and  cordial  countenance  un- 
der his  tall  hat,  between  the  glow  of  good-will  and  the  celestial  mel- 
ancholy which  plays  around  the  immortal  times  of  man. 

As  the  President  looked  into  the  young  man's  intense  and  under- 
gazing  eyes,  he  seemed  to  recognize  an  acquaintance,  and  hfted  his 
left  hand  to  his  hat,  uncovering  his  heart. 

At  this  moment  a  large  woman  rushed  across  the  President's 
path,  and  threw  herself  upon  the  actor,  crying  : 

"  You  shall  not  crowd  me  out  of  my  place  twice  ! " 

"  Shame  !  shame  ! "  from  the  people,  thus  disturbed  in  expecting 
to  see  their  ruler,  eye  to  eye. 

The  woman's  velocity  was  like  her  weight  and  will ;  she  bore 
the  actor  far  back,  and  faced  him  with  an  inflamed  and  hostile  face, 
and  cried  : 

"  What  woman  will  you  push  next  out  of  her  place  }  " 

The  President  had  gone  through  the  small,  guarded  door  toward 
the  Supreme  Court. 

The  man  gritted  his  teeth,  paid  no  heed  to  his  assailant,  and 
rushed  down  the  dusky,  hidden  stairs  in  the  shell  of  the  old  Cap- 
itol. 

Hannah  Ritner  was  also  heedless  of  the  people  who  gaped  at 
her  and  her  wild  hair  and  mien.  She  who  had  thus  made  a  tumult 
before  the  President,  went  down  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  and  turned 
into  Nelly  Harbaugh's  quarters. 

"  Nelly,  are  you  ready  to  show  Miss  Pittson  the  character  of  the 
man  who  wants  her  to  elope  with  him  ?  " 

"  No.  She  is  a  proud  creature,  and  let  her  be  unfriended  as  I 
was.     Who  advised  ;«^ .?  " 

The  strange  woman  listlessly  picked  up  the  girl's  hand  and  looked 
it  over,  while  Nelly  felt  a  sense  of  superstition  come  over  her  jealous 
cruelty. 

"  Go  to  her,"  sighed  Hannah  Ritner,  "and  you  shall  find  the  red 
bird." 

She  repeated  from  the  old  Dutch  prediction  she  had  made  sixty- 
five  months  before : 


THE  BAND.  487 

'Gaed  der  roth-fogel  uf'n  reis', 
Dann  vvaersht  net  dunkel  or  net  wciss  ! ' 


'* 


"  Hannah,"  exclaimed  the  actress,  "  do  you  see  fortunes  with 
your  mind  or  your  witchcraft  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  know,  girl  ?  She  who  wills  to  be  a  mother  might 
receive,  by  widening  love  of  all  mankind,  the  genesis  of  them  all  who 
came  in  strong  contact  with  her.  Your  beauty  and  will  impressed 
me.  I  saw  you  would  fall  by  climbing,  and  still  the  hand  that  shook 
you  from  purity  would  have  to  be  a  treacherous,  fierce  one,  and  in 
time  would  kill.     Now,  go  and  learn  who  the  red  bird  is." 

"  I  know,"  said  Nelly;  "I  have  used  my  old  lover  Atzerodt  to 
discover  that  John  Booth  is  in  some  rebel  plot.  But  Atzerodt  does 
not  know  himself  just  what  it  is  to  be.     Booth  may  not  know." 

"  Go  to  Light  Pittson,  my  girl !  What  shall  happen  there,  will 
put  you  in  Booth's  heart  again,  and  you  shall  read  it  for  me." 

"  Then  I  will  not  go,  to  be  the  menial  of  that  man  again." 

"  You  must,"  said  Hannah  Ritner,  rising  and  showing  the  latent 
power  she  employed  with  such  self-suffering ;  her  bosom  heaved 
and  her  eyes  conveyed  deep  night  and  lightnings,  and  her  hair  seemed 
to  fall,  unshaken,  like  a  great  black  serpent  uncoiling  from  a  tree. 

"  Oh,  mercy  !     Hannah,  do  not  look  at  me  like  that !  " 

"  Awake — the  woman  is  dying  in  you  !  Did  Pilate's  wife  not  send 
him  word,  '  Have  thou  nothing  to  do  with  that  just  man,  for  I  have 
suffered  in  my  dreams  of  him ' }  The  high-priest's  house-maids 
challenged  Peter's  treachery.  And  Jewish  women  followed  Christ 
when  every  man  turned  from  him — a  magdalen,  a  fallen  one,  that 
day,  the  purest,  bravest,  in  the  world  !  What  now  can  save  the 
just  man  at  our  side  but  women  ?  He  is  a  man  himself  and  will 
not  fear !     Let  woman  only  waken,  and  he  is  saved  !  " 

As  she  hesitated,  like  an  oracle  seeking  to  be  remedial  to  its 
own  harsh  prophecy,  Nelly  Harbaugh  threw  herself  at  Hannah's 
feet  and  cried : 

"  Teacher,  I  will  go  !  " 

Hannah  Ritner  staggered  like  a  drunken  woman  as  she  reached 
the  street,  and  some  in  that  evil  quarter  might  have  laughed  at  her. 
As  she  reached  the  avenue,  the  bands  and  bugles,  dispersing,  filled 
the  sky  with  sweetness  like  the  angel  choirs. 

"  Mother  I "  spoke  a  gentleman. 

*  See  page  59. 


488  KATY  OF  CATOcrnv. 

"  O  Edgar,  my  son,  I  have  been  all  night  guarding  the  President 
as  he  sat  from  midnight  to  the  mom,  signing  bills  at  the  Capitol  in 
the  last  night  of  the  session.  They  would  not  let  me  see  him.  He 
will  not  admit  me  any  more.  And  yet  that  Booth  and  parcels  of 
his  band  were  lurking  there  :  I  saw  them,  Edgar !  "  * 

"  Mother,  since  your  strange  behavior  in  the  Capitol  to-day,  there 
is  talk  of  confining  you  at  the  insane  asylum.  Your  presence 
here  threatens  your  grandchild,  Light,  with  some  exposure,  before  a 
good  man  can  marry  her.  Let  me  tell  you  that  the  President  is  in 
no  danger,  among  ten  thousand  friends,  and  if  he  were,  his  duty  is 
above  his  life." 

"  Send  him  away,  I  implore  you  ! " 

"  There  is  no  place  he  will  go  but  to  the  army." 

"  Then  send  him  there  !   Go  with  him.    I  am  not  mad,  my  boy." 

"  No,  mother.  You  do  affect  my  sensibilities ;  for  you  are  so 
often  right.     He  shall  go." 

Hannah  Ritner  next  sought  Hugh  Fenwick  in  the  old  Catholic 
Church  of  St.  Patrick,  where  he  was  enjoying  the  day  in  congenial 
mysticism  among  the  tapers  and  altar  matters. 

"  By  yonder  Host,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  wafer's  place,  "go 
this  day  to  Mrs.  Surratt's,  and  in  your  holiest  relation,  whatever  that 
may  be,  tell  her  that  her  new  friend  is  fatal,  and  will  splash  with 
righteous  blood  the  woman's  century  !  " 

"  Is  her  house  being  watched  ?  "  asked  Fenwick,  with  well-bred 
surprise. 

"  Yes,  by  me  and  the  stars  !  " 

The  novitiate  crossed  himself. 

"  I  will  go  and  tell  her,"  he  said. 

"  Then  everj'  woman  will  have  been  warned,"  lisped  Hannah 
Ritner,  hastening  away. 

Had  she  been  one  moment  earlier,  she  might  have  seen  Booth 
and  two  of  his  men  ride  up  the  alley  right  opposite  this  church,  be- 
hind Ford's  Theatre. 

"  I  guess  it's  none  of  my  business  to  become  unpopular  with 
Mrs.  Surratt,"  mused  Fenwick  to  himself,  after  she  had  gone. 
"  What  can  I  do,  if  Quantrell  ever  returns  ?  I  hope  he  is  in  this,  or 
some  other,  treason  scheme." 

*  The  testimony  of  the  intelligent  witness  Louis  J.  Weichman  is  that  Booth 
and  Surratt  went  to  the  Capitol  the  night  of  July  3d,  and  Surratt  had  been  all 
day  after  the  procession  on  horseback. 


THE  BAND.  489 

A  few  days  afterward  the  band  was  called  together,  and  all  were 
mounted,  Booth  at  the  head.  The  information  was  positive  that 
the  President  would  go  that  afternoon  to  visit  the  wounded  soldiers 
in  a  suburban  hospital. 

He  was  now  to  be  forced,  by  the  plan,  at  the  pistol's  point  to  get 
upon  a  horse  and  ride ;  and  at  Surratt's  tavern  carbines,  and  rope  to 
tie  him,  had  been  concealed  only  a  few  days  before  his  second  in- 
auguration. 

He  did  ride  out,  but  some  cavalrymen  were  beside  his  carriage, 
put  there  by  the  Secretary  of  War ;  and  he  went,  not  to  the  hos- 
pital, but  down  to  the  river  and  to  the  army,  to  stay  away  several 
days. 

Booth  sent  Payne  to  the  army  with  a  pass,  to  assassinate  him, 
but  the  President  was  kept  upon  a  steamboat  in  the  James  River, 
and  the  strange  man  was  repulsed  when  he  tried  to  board.* 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Booth  to  Payne,  when  the  latter  returned  to  Balti- 
more, "had  you  been  there  on  the  4th  of  March,  I  would  have 
killed  him  like  Cassar  in  the  Capitol." 

Young  Surratt,  who  had  been  fishing  a  long  time  for  the  confi- 
dence of  the  insurgent  government,  now  got  a  job  to  take  a  female 
spy  from  his  mother's  house  in  Washington  to  Richmond,  and 
there  he  was  paid  to  go  with  dispatches  to  Canada.  He  left  his 
mother,  never  to  see  her  again.  The  day  he  left  Richmond  the 
American  army  broke  the  thickest  shell  of  the  rebellion  in,  and 
President  Lincoln  entered  Richmond  amid  the  joys  of  a  mighty  race 
set  free.  He  was  in  no  danger  there,  where  the  people  had  lived 
behind  their  own  lines. 

Upon  the  9th  of  April,  1865,  Virginia  and  her  valiant  army  sur- 
rendered to  the  government. 

There  still  remained  a  large  insurgent  army  in  North  Carolina, 
and  other  smaller  armies  in  more  remote  States. 

President  Lincoln  addressed  the  people  from  his  mansion  in 
Washington  on  the  night  of  April  nth,  saying  : 

"  If  universal  amnesty  is  granted  to  the  insurgents,  I  can  not 
see  how  I  can  avoid  exacting  in  return  universal  suffrage,  or  at 
least  suffrage  on  the  basis  of  intelligence  and  military  service." 

There  were  then   hundreds  of   thousands  of  colored  soldier}', 

*  President  Lincoln's  son,  at  the  trial  of  John  Surratt,  gave  testimony  as 
above,  that  a  tall  man,  rather  of  Surratt's  appearance,  tried  at  City  Point  to 
see  the  President. 


490  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

and  the  insurgent  President  had  demanded  the  right  to  arm  the 
slaves. 

Booth  was  standing  before  Mr.  Lincoln  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
large  assemblage. 

"  That  means  nigger  citizenship,"  he  said  to  little  Herold,  by 
his  side.     "  Now,  by  God  !  I'll  put  him  through."  * 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

ASSASSINATION. 

When  a  man  has  once  let  murder  enter  his  mind,  it  will  drive 
out  all  the  lesser  passions.  Booth  had  recovered  Nelly  Harbaugh, 
and  raised  the  flame  of  love  in  her  again,  but  it  did  not  satisfy.  His 
voice  had  returned,  and  he  had  played  at  Ford's  Theatre  with  Nelly 
in  the  cast,  to  their  mutual  credit ;  but  he  now  wanted  to  act 
murder,  and  his  diabolical  part,  Pescara,  was  of  itself  an  explana- 
tion of  the  assassin's  mind. 

Pescara  hates  the  Moors  because  they  are  of  a  different  race  and 
views  from  his,  and  resolves  to  exterminate  them,  forces  the  noblest 
of  their  wix^es,  though  she  is  white,  and  stretches  her  husband  and 
his  aged  friends  upon  the  rack  of  the  Inquisition,  crjang  aloud  as 
he  stabs : 

"  Ha !  ha  !  a  Moor — 
One  of  that  race  that  we  have  trodden  down 
From  empire's  height  and  crushed — a  damned  Morisco ! 

What  if  I  rush. 
And  with  a  blow,  strike  life  from  out  his  heart  ? 

Come  forth,  my  sword  ! 
Be  true  as  fate  to  me.     Rise,  Spaniards,  rise  ! 
Rush  on  the  slaves,  and  revel  in  their  blood  !" 

Fifty  years  before  this — the  last  play-part  acted  by  John  Wilkes 
Booth — an  Irish  lawyer  had  made  the  character  of  Pescara,  from  a 
close  study  of  Booth's  father's  rendering  of  types  of  hideous  cruelty 
and  revenge.     The  piece  was  no  longer  allowed  to  be  played  in 

*  Frederick  Stone,  counsel  for  Herold  after  Booth's  death,  told  the  author 
that  this  was  the  occasion  of  the  deliberate  murder  being  resolved  upon  by 
Booth,  and  in  the  words  above. 


ASSASSINATION. 


491 


England,  but  the  father  had  played  it  in  America,  and  this  son  now 
demanded  to  play  it  at  a  fellow-actor's  benefit.* 

By  another  promise  he  had  made,  to  play  for  the  benefit  of  the 
chief  officer  of  that  theatre,  his  access  to  the  building  had  become 
nearly  like  a  proprietor's,  and  there  Spangler  was  Booth's  man  and 
sworn  confederate. 

The  day  before  Good  Friday,  April  14th,  Booth,  seeking  to  decoy 
the  President  to  a  theatre,  went  also  to  the  National  Theatre  and 
suggested  to  the  proprietor  to  invite  Mr.  Lincoln  the  next  night, 
which  was  to  be  the  celebration  of  raising  the  public  flag  again 
upon  Fort  Sumter.  Both  theatres  were  therefore  tendered  to  the 
President ;  but  his  wife  accepted  Ford's  Theatre,  since  "  The  Amer- 
ican Cousin  "  was  to  be  played  there — a  piece  of  the  humor  flavored 
to  Mr.  Lincoln's  cares. 

Although  Booth  had  sold  one  of  his  horses,  he  could  hire  others 
less  expensively ;  for  he  meant  to  steal  them  at  the  livery-stables. 
All  the  band  still  hung  around  him  except  two.  He  sold  his  bugg)' 
the  day  after  he  resolved  to  murder.  The  bills  of  exchange  he  had 
bought  on  Canada  constituted  nearly  all  his  means,  and  he  meant 
to  spend  the  rest  on  this  bloody  spree,  to  which  liquor  was  now 
giving  demoniac  ferocity. 

He  designed  to  kill  the  President  himself,  and  to  kill  Mr.  Seward 
— the  founder  of  the  Republican  party — by  the  hands  of  Payne  ;  for 
Booth  was  an  exemplification  of  bigotry  in  general,  in  that  he 
chiefly  hated  the  thinkers  and  writers  among  his  opponents.  There 
is  something  of  Booth  in  every  narrow,  domineering  intellect,  and 
five  months  before  this  murder  he  began  to  be  a  literary  man  him- 
self, and  keep  a  diary  like  his  grandfather.f 

*  John  McCullough.  This  piece  was  played  March  18,  1865,  by  Booth,  in 
the  presence  of  Surratt,  Herold,  and  Atzerodt,  and  probably  Arnold  and 
O'Loughlin — some  of  whom  were  in  the  President's  box. 

t  In  November,  1864,  Booth  deposited  with  his  brother-in-law,  J.  S.  Clark, 
a  long:  composition,  extenuating  some  crime  he  meant  to  commit,  of  which  the 
following  is  pertinent  to  the  motive  of  this  book  : 

"When  I  aided  in  the  capture  and  execution  of  John  Brown  (who  was  a 
murderer  on  our  W  estern  border,  and  who  was  fairly  tried  and  convicted  be- 
fore an  impartial  judge  and  jury  of  treason,  and  who,  by  the  way,  has  since 
been  made  God),  I  was  proud  of  my  little  share  in  the  transaction,  for  I 
deemed  it  my  duty  that  I  was  helping  our  common  country  to  perform  an  act 
of  justice.  But  what  was  a  crime  in  poor  Brown  is  now  considered  (by  them- 
selves) as  the  greatest  and  only  virtue  of  the  whole  Republican  party.     Strange 


492 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


Payne  was  not  told  of  his  particular  task  until  evening,  when  it 
was  plain  that  General  Grant  would  not  come  to  the  theatre ;  but, 
had  it  been  otherwise.  Booth  reserved  Payne  for  a  bloody  part  in 
the  theatre-box. 

O'Loughlin  came  over  from  Baltimore  to  be  made  the  assassin 
of  Secretary  Stanton  and  General  Grant ;  but,  after  taking  a  look  at 
them,  he  wisely  concluded  to  finish  out  his  spree,  and,  in  this  case, 
wine  was  wit. 

The  new  Vice-President,  a  Southern  man,  and  hardly  an  oppo- 
nent of  slavery,  Booth  desired  to  kill  because  he  was  a  "  renegade  " 
and  the  successor,  and  he  concluded  to  put  this  task  on  Atzerodt. 

Little  Herold  was  to  guide  Payne  to  Mr.  Seward's  door,  and 
then  show  him,  by  an  upper  bridge  over  the  Eastern  Branch,  the 
road  to  meet  Booth  at  Surratt's. 

Booth's  rehance  on  Atzerodt  lay  not  in  the  latter 's  courage,  but 
his  despair,  at  being  left  behind,  the  accomplice  in  a  great  crime, 
and  penniless  in  Washington,  while  his  safety  would  lie  in  escaping 
to  his  own  district  and  using  his  own  transportation  there  to  Vir- 
ginia. 

Booth,  drinking  at  intervals  all  Friday,  fed  this  hideous  scheme, 
the  logical  outcome  of  himself,  his  courses,  and  his  former  plot,  with 
whisky,  which  hardened  his  purpose  and  shut  out  all  moral  abstrac- 
tions. 

He  set  Spangler  to  work  upon  making  him  a  bar  for  the  private 
box  after  it  was  prepared  for  the  President — by  taking  out  a  par- 
tition, and  decorating  the  double  box  with  flags ;  and,  seeing  the 
position  of  the  President's  chair.  Booth  took  a  small  gimlet  he  had 
bought  and  bored  an  eyelet-hole  through  the  thin  box-door,  and  cut 
it  clean  with  his  pen-knife  ;  while  in  a  short  private  passage  behind 
the  box,  used  to  reach  the  inner  box  without  passing  through  the 
first,  he  made  in  the  cheap  theatre  plastering  a  hole  to  fit  the  wooden 
bar,  so  as  to  bar  out  the  audience,  forcing  the  other  end  of  the  stick 
against  a  little  door  opening  inward  from  the  second  or  dress  circle. 

If  a  trap  had  been  invented  to  catch  the  victim,  it  could  not  have 
been  more  complete  or  economical  than  these  united  boxes,  the 
little  blind  passage  behind  them,  and  the  narrow  wicket  opening 
obliquely  to  the  side-w^all.     Once  within  there,  the  murderer  could 

transmigjation  !  Vice  so  became  a  virtue  simply  because  more  indulged  in. 
1  thoug-ht  then,  as  now,  that  the  abolitionists  were  the  only  traitors  in  the  land, 
and  that  the  entire  party  deserved  the  same  fate  of  poor  John  Brown." 


ASSASSINATION.  493 

take  breath,  be  unseen  by  any,  fix  the  bar  behind  him,  peep  through 
the  eyelet-hole  at  the  President  in  his  box,  open  the  box-door,  and 
fire. 

The  key  to  his  own  escape  Booth  had  been  forging  at  a  gym- 
nasium for  years — the  cat-leap — and  this  day  he  tried  it  again  and 
again  in  the  darkness  of  the  deserted  theatre,  while  his  man  was 
loosening  the  screws  of  the  bolt-catch  on  the  door  toward  the  audi- 
ence, so  that  it  might  open  to  the  murderer's  push. 

The  bait  to  this  trap  was  the  American  flag,  the  cheese  of  com- 
edy, and  the  sympathy  between  the  glad  people  and  their  well- 
acquitted  servant.  Coming  to  that  theatre,  the  President  would 
bring  revenue,  in  a  crowded  house,  for  its  sullen  scullions,  some  of 
whom  cursed  him  as  they  were  fixing  the  colors. 

The  carpenter  and  scene-pusher,  who  had  been  taken  into  the 
plot  long  before,  was,  like  accomplices  generally  in  murder,  of  dead 
self-respect,  no  ambition,  no  particular  wickedness ;  and,  while  hat- 
ing the  great  emancipator,  had  sold  himself  to  be  a  slave.  Booth 
owned  him,  fed  him  on  drink,  shillings,  and  familiarity,  and  meant 
to  leave  him  behind,  as  other  adventurers  in  war  had  lost  their  slaves 
— no  loss  when  lost.* 

In  the  stable  that  Spangler  attended  behind  the  theatre,  for 
Booth,  was  a  one-eyed  racking  horse,  which  Booth  had  bought  on 
his  second  visit  to  Dr.  Mudd,  from  one  of  Mudd's  neighbors,  and 
in  his  presence ;  it  was  a  brownish  bay,  a  stout  work-horse,  with 
heavy  fetlocks  down  to  the  feet.  Beside  this  heavy  animal,  intended 
for  Payne,  Booth  put  on  Friday  afternoon  a  small  bay  mare  he  had 
hired  on  C  Street,  in  the  rear  of  his  hotel,  of  a  city  livery-man  from 
lower  Maryland  ;  for,  with  highwayman's  impartiality,  he  took  both 
the  horses  he  afterward  sacrificed,  from  his  Southern  friends. 

Spangler  had  fitted  up  that  old  stable  with  two  stalls  for  Booth, 
and  thus  was  his  carpenter,  hostler,  and  door-keeper. 

Had  this  insignificant  man  been  of  honest  poverty-proof,  the 
greatest  of  poor  white  men  might  have  been  saved  ;  for  Spangler 
made  Booth's  plan  possible,  as,  without  a  confederate  on  that  stage. 
Booth's  leap  from  the  box  would  have  been  as  reckless  as  Harle- 
quin's leap  through  a  flying  trap  without  any  assistant  beneath. 

The  door  at  the  rear  of  the  theatre  opened  inward ;  the  horse 
beyond  it  had  to  be  held ;  from  the  baited  and  barred  box,  through 

*  Mr.  Harbin,  who  was  in  the  abduction  plot  with  Mudd  and  Booth,  related 
to  the  author  that  Spangler  understood  Booth's  design  from  an  early  period. 


494  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

the  juggling  shifts  of  scenery',  to  the  ready-made  exit  and  the  rear 
door  closing  in  the  face  of  pursuit,  the  saddled  horse,  and  the  con- 
venient stable — this  fellow  Spangler  was  like  a  clothes-pin,  of  no  in- 
centive in  himself,  but  taking  hold  everywhere. 

As  Booth  gave  Spangler  the  bay  mare,  he  handed  him  a  tie-rein 
to  hitch  her.  The  mare  had  black  legs,  mane,  and  tail,  a  spotted 
"  off  "  fore-foot,  and  a  white  star  in  the  forehead. 

Soon  afterward,  Herold  and  Atzerodt  separately  appeared  at  a 
stable,  masked,  from  the  head  of  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  by  a  small 
square  of  trees — the  livery-keeper  thereof  having  been  the  messenger 
between  Richmond  and  Washington  at  Nat  Turner's  slave  insurrec- 
tion in  1 83 1.*  There  Atzerodt  left  a  small  bay  mare,  to  be  kept  till 
called  for ;  with  difficulty,  on  his  bad  face,  he  had  obtained  it  of  a 
livery-man. 

When  Herold  afterward  came,  he  asked  to  pre-empt  a  lady's 
saddle-horse  for  that  afternoon. 

"  Here,"  said  the  clerk,  "  is  the  easiest-moving  horse  in  the  sta- 
ble.    He  is  a  single- footed  racker." 

He  brought  out  a  light  roan,  with  black  legs,  tail,  and  mane,  a 
little  worn  on  the  back  by  ladies'  saddles.  As  the  horse  was  chased 
along  the  stable's  length,  his  feet  came  down — 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

"  Now,  le'  me  see  yer  saddles  and  bridles !  "  said  Herold,  with 
country-jockey  slyness ;  and,  walking  into  the  harness-room,  he 
picked  out  for  himself,  indifferent  to  advice,  an  English  saddle  with 
steel  stirrups,  and  a  double-reined  and  double-bitted  bridle. 

This  boy,  as  he  was  generally  called,  was  twenty-three  years  old, 
not  ill-connected,  and  a  natural  product  of  Washington  city  as  it 
was  in  slave-times — without  any  fixed  place  or  tone,  unaffected  by 
any  of  the  subjects  or  men  of  government ;  his  bias  toward  the  South, 
but  not  stable  enough  to  reason  or  argue  that,  or  any  other  subject ; 
and,  while  they  had  no  outward  resemblance.  Booth  and  Herold 
belonged  to  each  other  by  the  frequent  tie  of  nothing-to-do — the 
same  which  brings  dogs  together  unassorted.  Their  highest  trait 
was  mutual — restless  exercise — Herold 's  maggot  toward  sporting, 
Booth's  toward  physical  and  fierce  adventure.     Herold  had  been  as 

*  A.  Nailor,  Sr. — That  insurrection  almost  led  to  the  voluntary  abandon- 
ment of  slaver}'  by  Virginia,  because  it  cost  sixty-one  white  people's  lives.  The 
messenger  in  question  lived  to  hire  a  horse  to  the  emancipator's  murderer, 
after  the  sacrifice  of  more  lives  than  Virginia  had  people. 


A  SSA  SSINA  TION.  495 

high  as  hospital  assistant  and  as  low  as  the  monkey  of  a  quack  doc- 
tor who  practiced  upon  the  vices  of  the  town. 

By  Booth's  combination  of  low  tastes  and  high  mental  ferocity 
he  was  able  to  sleep  with  Herold  and  dream  with  President  Lincoln, 
and  the  explanation  is  easy:  his  self-assertion  met  no  resistance 
from  his  mindless  followers,  and  with  them  he  basked  in  grateful 
amiability,  or  ruled  them  with  tyrannic  effervescence.  That  was  the 
condition  of  all  masters'  sons  among  their  slave  playfellows  :  Booth's 
father  left  him  no  slaves,  so  he  went  and  found  white  ones,  to  love 
and  admire  him  like  the  others,  in  the  catching  pride  of  slavery's 
contact. 

Strange  that,  amid  this  studied  guilt.  Booth  believed  he  had  the 
heart  of  love  and  the  manner  of  chivalry  ! 

When  moral  resistance  gives  completely  away,  the  reasoning 
safety  merely  flutters.  Mrs.  Surratt  sometimes  borrowed  the  horses 
Booth  but  recently  owned  for  his  abduction  scheme,  and,  on  the  day 
he  declared  he  should  now  kill  the  President,  she  sent  to  Booth  to 
borrow  his  horse  and  bugg}^  again  ;  he  hired  another  for  her,  and 
she  went  to  Surrattsville,  and  on  the  way  she  saw  her  tenant  who 
kept  the  inn,  and  told  him,  at  Booth's  request,  that  the  "  shooting- 
irons  "  would  soon  be  called  for.  By  the  obligation  thus  created, 
and  ripened  confidence,  Booth  concluded,  on  the  day  of  the  murder, 
to  send  her  to  Surrattsville  again.  She  had  no  adviser,  and  consid- 
ered that  woman's  part  in  war  and  politics  did  not  count.  On  this 
occasion  she  had  private  business,  and  paid  for  her  own  buggy  before 
he  came. 

Those  horses,  which  Booth  long  owned— one  of  them,  like  its 
rider,  to  come  home  to  her  door— had  been  liveried  nearly  in  the 
rear  of  her  house,  on  the  parallel  street — an  alley  running  through — 
by  her  own  son.  To  that  same  stable  she  sent  on  this  Good  Friday, 
whereupon  the  crucifix  she  worshiped  had  been  reared.  Her  mes- 
senger was  a  boarder  who  had  been  a  schoolmate  of  her  son,  and 
who  had  seen  nearly  every  person  in  the  plot  come  to  her  house, 
and  ride  these  and  other  horses  before  it,  and  display  pistols,  bowie- 
knives,  bits  of  disguise,  and  fancy  riding  accoutrements  about  the 
son's  bedroom,  until  his  curiosity  had  reached  the  point  of  wonder. 

As  the  boarder  went  to  the  stable,  there  was  Atzerodt,  being  re- 
fused a  horse ;  and  as  he  went  to  her  door  with  the  buggy,  there  was 
Booth  again,  in  close  conversation  with  Mrs.  Surratt,  and  Booth  gave 


496  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

her  a  tied  package  to  carry.  It  was  then  almost  three  o'clock.  The 
murder  had  been  shaped  by  Booth  in  every  part  for  that  night,  and 
at  a  time  only  seven  hours  distant.  He  did  not  tell  her  how  he  was 
allying  her  with  his  crime. 

Where  was  Hugh  Fenwick,  with  his  delicate  consideration  for 
women — he  who  had  accepted  the  duty  of  giving  this  widow  some 
warning  to  stand  upon,  and  revive  her  thinking  parts  ? 

Where  was  her  son — a  voter,  a  man  subject  to  draft,  and  mature 
enough,  in  his  own  esteem,  to  outwit  and  capture  the  ruler  of  the 
whole  land  ? 

He  had  gone  from  Richmond  to  Canada,  and — fateful  now  to 
remember  ! — she  had  gone  part  of  the  w'ay  to  Richmond  with  him, 
and  a  female  spy  was  in  the  carriage  at  her  side. 

So  the  widow  drove  that  Good  Friday  the  long  and  hilly  ten 
miles  to  her  spy-haunted  tavern,  that  for  four  years  had  done  its  evil, 
sinister  part,  and  three  years  and  a  half  of  that  time  was  her  own 
abode — post-office  of  the  government,  as  well  as  custodian  of  the 
insurgent  mail.  Her  heart  was  light,  for  her  son  had  received  three 
hundred  dollars  at  Richmond.* 

All  care  had  been  thrown  aside,  in  view  of  the  virtual  conclusion 
of  the  war.  A  Httle  picket  on  the  wayside  spoke  to  her  with  court- 
esy as  the  cavalrymen  turned  their  horses  toward  Washington.  She 
reached  her  tavern  half  an  hour  before  sundown,  and  rested  in  the 
dwelling  part,  and  dictated  a  business  letter  till  her  tenant  came 
home.  She  went  out  to  hirn  at  his  wood-pile,  and  handed  him 
Booth's  package,  and  said  : 

"  Mr.  Lloyd,  put  this  with  the  other  things  of  John's  you've  got 
hid  away." 

"  What  things  ?  "  asked  the  man,  fuddled  by  drink.  He  had 
been  that  day  at  his  county  court,  to  prosecute  a  customer  who  had 
stabbed  him. 

"  Why,  you  know  well  enough.  The  shooting-irons,  ammuni- 
tion, and  so  on,  hid  over  the  store-room.  They  will  be  called  for  by 
parties  to-night — late  to-night.  Give  them  to  the  men  who  ask  for 
them,  and  have  two  bottles  0/  whisky  ready,  too," 

*"Next  Tuesday,  and  the  jifr's  up.  Good-by,  Surrattsville  !  Good-by, 
God-forsaken  country  !  Old  Abe,  the  good  old  soul,  may  the  devil  take  pity  on 
him  !  " — Letter  sworn  to  be  John  Surratt's,  dated  at  leaving  his  tavern  to  live 
in  Washington,  November  12,  1864 — five  months  before  the  cissassination. — 
(Surratt's  trial.) 


A  SSA  SSIIVA  TION. 


497 


As  the  man  took  the  package  up-stairs,  curiosity  tempted  him  to 
open  it.  It  contained  a  field-glass,  such  as  military  officers  used  to 
observe  a  distant  enemy.  His  visitor's  buggy  was  hardly  out  of 
sight  when  he  reached  far  under  the  rafters  of  his  main  hotel,  from 
a  small  hidden  loft  connected  with  his  bar,  and  brought  out  two  fine 
Spencer  breech-loading  carbines,  in  canvas  covers,  a  box  of  ammu- 
nition for  them,  a  coil  of  rope,  and  a  monkey-wrench,  such  as  might 
be  used  to  screw  up  the  nuts  of  carriage-wheels.  He  brought  these 
out  and  put  them  upon  his  own  bed,  to  be  ready  when  called  for 
that  night. 

"  These  things  has  troubled  my  mind  ever  sence  John  Surratt  left 
'em  yer,"  mused  the  landlord,  tipsily.  "  He  and  Dave  Herold  and 
Port  Tebakker  Atzerodt  come  together,  just  before  ole  Abe's  inog- 
eration,  and  sence  John's  been  to  Richmond  this  house  has  been  on 
the  p'int  of  bein'  s'arched.     Well,  I'll  git  rid  of  'em  now  !  "* 

Twenty  miles  down  and  back  brought  Mrs.  Surratt,  at  almost 
nine  o'clock,  to  the  descent  of  a  hill  overlooking  Washington.  The 
city  was  illuminated,  and  the  young  man  at  her  side  expressed  some 
mild  glow  of  satisfaction  at  Peace. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  all  this  rejoicing  will  be  turned  into  mourn- 
ing," she  said;  "this  is  a  proud  and  licentious  people,  and  God 
will  punish  them." 

Her  violent  hostihties  in  the  war,  she  felt  to  have  been  in  vain, 
and  the  scene  humiliated  her.  The  horse  shied  in  the  city  at  the 
torches  of  a  glad  procession  going  to  serenade  the  President. 

They  were  tired  when  they  reached  the  little  steep-staired  house  ; 
but  hardly  had  they  supped,  when  the  bell  rang. 

Booth  appeared  before  her,  stern  and  intense  with  the  excite- 
ment and  stimulation  of  the  day.     Drink  changed  his  nature,  but 

*  How  well  the  government  treated  this  family  and  tavern  may  be  inferred 
from  the  following  boastful  paragraph  in  John  Surratt's  public  lecture  on  his 
military  campaigns,  delivered  at  Rockville,  Maryland,  December,  1870 :  "  We 
ran  a  regularly  established  line  from  Washington  to  the  Potomac,  and  I  being  the 
only  unmarried  man  on  the  route,  I  had  most  of  the  hard  riding  to  do.  I  devised 
various  ways  to  carry  the  dispatches,  sometimes  in  the  heels  of  my  boots,  some- 
times between  the  planks  of  the  buggy.  Never  in  my  life  did  I  come  across  a 
more  stupid  set  of  detectives  than  those  generally  employed  by  the  United  States 
Government.  They  seemed  to  have  no  idea  whatever  how  to  search  men.  .  .  . 
It  was  a  fascinating  life  to  me.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could  not  do  too  much  or  run 
too  great  a  risk."  On  one  occasion,  it  is  Weichmann's  testimony  that  John  Sur- 
ratt told  him  he  was  going  on  the  stage  with  Booth  to  play  at  Richmond. 


498  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN.  •' 

keyed  up  his  physical  system  and  made  him  positive  as  the  intoxica- 
tion of  tyranny. 

"  The  devil  and  his  hour  have  concurred  at  last !  "  he  said.  "  I'm 
going  to  kill  him,  and  as  many  more  as  my  few  braves  can  reach 
to-night ! " 

"  Lincoln  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  " 

He  seemed  insane  between  the  bloody  purpose  and  the  vagrant 
yet  deeply  preoccupied  day. 

"  O  John,  friend,  pet — oh,  sir,  think  how  you  will  bring  me  in ! 
Here  I  am  just  home,  and  have  done  your  errand  with  my  own." 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Booth  ;  "your  tavern  tenant  is  with  us  in  feel- 
ing, and  he'll  never  betray  you.  I  have  closed  up  every  leak  and 
written  my  confession,  and  shall  show  myself  to  Lincoln's  thousands, 
among  whom  I  mean  to  strike  him  !  " 

She  endeavored  to  affect  him,  but  it  was  too  late.  The  mark 
of  the  drink  was  in  his  brow,  deep  as  the  brain.  He  talked  strong 
and  with  dramatic  accent,  broke  down  her  feeble  plaint,  and  made 
her  see,  the  instant  he  had  left  her,  the  injury  she  had  done  her 
family  by  mixing  in  the  war  between  the  lines  and  suffering  the 
daring  conspiracy  of  abduction  to  enter  her  household  and  get  pos- 
session of  her  son.  Oh,  for  this  son  to-night,  to  rush  upon  an 
errand  and  arrest  the  madman's  hand  ! 

She  had  no  son  :  the  insurrection  had  swallowed  them  both  up, 
and  the  last,  willful  fugitive,  ^nd  restless,  but  once  meek  and  pious 
boy,  had  received  the  Confederacy's  employment  only  the  moment 
before  its  fall,  and  might  now  be  hastening  home  from  Canada  in 
time  to  perish  ! 

She  thought  of  the  youth  who  had  driven  her  that  afternoon,  as 
one  to  send  and  give  the  alarm.  Alas !  he  was  a  clerk  under  the 
stern  Carnot  of  the  War  Department,  Mr.  Stanton. 

Finally,  she  thought  of  Hugh  Fenwick,  and  of  his  intimacy  with 
Secretary  Stanton's  brown-eyed  friend.  Major  Bosler ;  but  him  it 
seemed  impossible  to  find  to-night  in  the  peace-celebrating  and 
holiday-taking  city.  The  door  opened,  and  her  late  escort  came 
in,  and  found  her  running  over  her  prayer-beads  nervously. 

"  Pray !  pray  !  "  she  said,  "  for  my  intentions." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  he,  "  I  thought  you  were  a  Christian,  and  wanted 
peace  to  come,  even  if  we  must  have  our  Union  back." 

The  hall  and  parlor  filled  with  the  laughter  of  young  Vv'omen, 


A  SSA  SSINA  TION.  ^gn 

her  daughter  among  them,  and  the  hostess  chased  them  to  bed. 
Then  she  sat  down  and  said  : 

"Oh,  he's  an  actor!  He  won't  do  anything  like  that,  fierce  as 
he  has  often  talked." 

Ten  o'clock  came  sounding  from  the  city  bells. 

As  she  stepped  into  her  room  and  finished  her  toilet  to  retire 
for  the  night,  the  hoofs  of  horses — two  of  them,  as  it  seemed — 
went  past  the  door  loudly. 

"  How  that  cavalry  tears  along  to-night  !  "  she  said,  and  put  out 
the  light. 

Turning  the  great  Doric  Interior  Department  of  marble.  Booth, 
after  leaving  Mrs.  Surratt,  paused  under  a  hotel  and  bought  at  a 
drug-store  a  vial  of  medicine.  In  the  inn  above,  Payne  had  been 
kept  caged,  like  a  beast  before  the  performance,  for  two  weeks,  his 
room  previously  secured  by  the  Surratts,  and  he  was  visited  there 
by  Mrs.  Surratt,  and  that  dusk  he  had  received  his  instructions. 

Booth  turned  into  the  hotel  block  a  few  steps  farther  on,  by  the 
dark  theatre  alley,  and  clicked  his  key  in  his  low  stable-door. 

"  Lew,  wake  up  !  "  he  whispered. 

"  I  haven't  been  asleep,  John,"  from  a  voice  in  the  straw. 

"  This  is  the  vial  you  are  to  take  to  Seward's :  remember,  the 
doctor's  name  is  Verdi.  Herold  will  see  you  pass  Nailor's  stable 
and  follow  you,  and  be  your  guide.  Take  out  your  horse  first ! 
Good-by,  and  make  yourself  a  great  man  !  " 

They  shook  hands  in  the  dark,  and  the  horse,  bought  by  Dr. 
Mudd,  went  out  of  the  narrow  alley  with  that  powerful  column  of  ?. 
youth  on  his  back — the  youngest  of  the  band. 

When  the  horse's  feet  had  died  away.  Booth  led  out  his  bay 
mare  and  pulled  her  up  the  dingy  theatre  area  to  the  low  stage- 
door,  beside  which  was  a  bench.  One  or  possibly  two  poor  tene- 
ments were  now  inhabited  in  this  court  of  stables,  and  a  colored 
woman  in  one  heard  the  call  of  "  Ned,"  and  it  was  repeated  at  a 
stage-window  above. 

Spangler  appeared  and  held  the  animal  until  some  one  within 
had  summoned  a  lad  of  the  foundling  order,  by  the  name  of  "  Pea- 
nuts," who  distributed  the  theatre-bills.  He  took  the  horse  and  lay 
down  upon  the  bench,  and  there  in  the  solitude,  the  moon  being 
not  yet  up,  the  horse  stamped  for  almost  an  hour,  and  the  boy  dozed 
in  the  chilly  night. 


500 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


Booth  had  passed  in,  whispered  to  Spangler,  and  had  come  out 
at  the  theatre  front,  on  Tenth  Street.  Just  as  he  reached  there,  the 
President's  carriage  drove  up,  and  the  tall  form  of  Mr.  Lincoln  was 
seen,  behind  an  officer  and  a  young  lady,  coming  forward  with  his 
wife  upon  his  arm.  These  four,  assisted  by  ushers,  passed  into 
one  of  the  round  doors  of  the  theatre. 

Booth  felt  a  quivering  and  a  gloating  together  pass  like  a  cold 
and  a  warm  current  to  his  heart.  The  man  so  long  hunted  was  in 
his  den ;  he  rather  rejoiced  that  there  were  women  with  him,  to  lull 
apprehensions  and  reduce  the  area  of  resistance.  He  knew  the 
accompanying  officer  carried  no  arms  where  ladies  went,  as  only 
the  ill-bred  do.  Yet  there  was  a  ner\^ous  void  in  his  breast  as  he 
muttered,  under  the  blowing  alcove  lamp  : 

"  This  time  I  think  I've  got  him  !  " 

He  went  into  one  of  the  three  saloons  girding  the  theatre,  and 
drank,  and  rushed  out. 

"  Do  I  regret  that  I  am  in  it }  "  he  asked.  "  No,  I'll  go  through 
with  it !  I've  sent  my  friends  in  there,  and  told  them  they  would  see 
great  acting." 

He  walked  rapidly — the  spurs  rattling  a  little  on  his  feet — to  the 
avenue,  and  turned  into  the  Kirkwood  Hotel,  and  mounted  some 
flights  and  knocked  at  a  door. 

A  cry  and  a  shivering  chatter  followed,  and  a  voice  asked : 

"  Who's — where  }  " 

"  I — open  !  "  the  actor's  bass  rolled  low. 

"  O  Mister  Boot !  I  tought  it  might  pe,  maype — somepodies. 
He !  he ! " 

The  coachm.aker  of  Port  Tobacco  was  there,  Andrew  Atzerodt, 
a  little  boozy,  but  more  ashen  pale  under  his  dirty  skin  and  low- 
crowned  hat. 

"  Why  ain't  you  ready  }  All  are  out  but  you.  If  you  fail  to  do 
your  work,  remember!  Your  name  goes  in  the  hands  of  the 
authorities,  and  they'll  hang  you  without  a  trial.  Where's  your 
knife?" 

"  Tere,  Mr.  Boot ! " 

He  pulled  up  the  mattress  of  the  hotel  bed  and  showed  a  large 
bowie-knife,  and  under  his  pillow  was  a  revolver,  loaded  and 
capped. 

"You  have  got  Herold's  overcoat  on  the  peg,"  said  Booth, 
"  with  my  bank-book  and  tooth-brush  in  it.     It  may  turn  cold.     I 


A  SSA  SSINA  TION. 


501 


can't  do  my  job  with  an  overcoat  on,  and  depend  on  you  to  fetch  it. 
We  all  move  on  our  men  at  five  minutes  after  ten,  sharp !  Andy 
Johnson's  room  is  right  under  you.  Go  at  him  and  finish  him — or 
he'll  raise  the  alarm  on  you  !  Then,  as  I  told  you,  mount  your 
horse  at  the  door  and  ride  fast  for  Benning's  Bridge,  where  Payne 
will  meet  you.     Your  only  hope  for  fife  is  to  obey  !  " 

He  was  gone,  and  Atzerodt  fell  on  the  bed,  and  sobbed  and 
panted  in  the  terror  of  the  grave. 

"Where  can  I  go  now.?"  he  moaned.  "I  don't  know.  May- 
pe  I  can  go  up-country  where  I  got  a  gal  and  a  cousin.  I  reckon 
tey  won't  haf  me.  Te  witch  at  Shmoketown  said  I  would  pe 
hanged  and  Boot  pe  burnt.  My  God !  my  God !  Tat  is  a  pad 
man— tat  Boot.  I  tought  he  was  shoost  braggin',  like  me,  and 
now  he's  got  drunk,  and  maype  he'll  kill  somepodies.  Oh,  let  me 
prays  some ! " 

He  dropped  upon  his  knees  and  set  up  what  he  thought  was  a 
prayer,  but  it  came  to  him,  after  he  had  grown  very  fervent,  that  it 
was  a  piece  of  a  song  he  was  saying. 

"I  don't  know  none,"  he  exclaimed.  "I'm  gone  up.  If  I 
shteal  dat  horse,  I'll  pe  sent  to  te  penitentiary.  I  wish  I  was  tere 
now!  I  reckon  I'll  go  down  and  tell  Andy  Johnson  I  was  put  on 
him  to  kill  him,  and  won't  do  it.     Then  I  won't  pe  hanged." 

He  leaped  to  his  feet,  put  on  his  hat,  felt  confident  and  plausi- 
ble, and  went  down  to  the  Vice-President's  room.  A  soldier  had 
been  guarding  it  in  the  earlier  evening ;  he  was  now  gone,  and  no 
response  came  from  Atzerodt's  knock. 

The  wretch  hastened  out,  disconsolate,  and  up  the  avenue  to 
Nailor's  stable  to  get  his  mare. 

He  saw  Herold  and  Payne  turn  the  comer  of  the  avenue  around 
the  Treasury  Department  fagade,  riding  steadily. 

Atzerodt  spurred  his  horse  down  the  obscure  streets  of  Murder 
Bay,  behind  the  stable,  and  rode  along  the  stinking  ditch  of  the  old 
Tiber  Canal,  and  wondered  where  he  could  go. 

"  I  been  goin'  to  te  devil  efer  sence  John  Brown's  times,"  he 
said.  "  Nigger-ketchin'  got  me  to  plockade-runnin',  and  dat  got 
me  to  know  Surratt  and  Boot,  and  I  reckon  I'll  shoost  go  take  a 
drink  at  some  dive  and  git  hanged." 

He  dismounted,  all  incongruous  and  weeping,  at  the  settled  city 
line,  seeing  there  the  red  light  of  a  bar.  A  woman  came  past  him 
and  called  his  name — 


502 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  Andrew  ?  " 

"  Why — Nelly !  Don't  you  know  I  told  you  I  should  hang  for 
you  some  day?  Go  stop  dat  Boot :  he's  at  te  theatre,  and  old  Abe 
Lincoln's  there,  and  tere'U  pe  murder !  " 

The  woman  checked  a  short  scream,  and  ran  through  the  next 
cross-street  to  the  avenue,  and  up  to  Ford's  Theatre,  where  she  had 
the  entree. 

"  I  can  give  you.  Miss  Starr,  a  seat,  if  you  can-  get  it  emptied, 
right  opposite  the  President's  box,"  said  the  ticket-seller. 

She  hastened  through  the  lobby  and  past  the  parquet,  and  up 
the  dress-circle  stairs,  and  gave  an  usher  whom  she  knew  her 
ticket,  whispering: 

"  Has  John  Booth  been  here  to-night?  " 

"  I  saw  him  over  yonder  just  now,  near  the  State  box. — Please 
give  this  lady  her  seat,  sir ! " 

As  the  usher  spoke,  a  report  came  from  somewhere,  startling 
and  loud.     Nelly  glanced  at  the  President's  box. 

There  sat  the  President,  with  his  head  dropped,  as  if  glancing 
away  from  the  piece  into  the  parquet,  sleepily,  while  his  wife  had 
turned  her  head  toward  the  young  lady  at  her  side,  each  looking  at 
the  other,  and  the  officer  behind  the  ladies  had  lisen. 

Smoke  next  curled  curiously,  slowly,  at  last  strong  out  of  the 
box,  and  in  the  smoke  it  seemed  that  the  officer  and  some  other 
one  there  were  fighting.  A  voice  came  out  of  the  short  me/^e  like 
a  command  given  on  a  ship,  with  the  word  "  revenge  "  in  it,  and  a 
flash  of  steel  or  glass  followed  ;  and  then,  while  the  play  seemed  to 
halt,  and  part  of  the  audience  to  be  observing  the  box,  a  bare- 
headed man  in  black,  with  pallid  face  and  large  eyes,  came  right  to 
the  box-railing,  parted  the  flags,  set  his  left  hand  on  the  rail,  passed 
his  right  hand  up  with  a  knife  flashing  below  the  palm,  and  vaulted 
lightly  over  to  the  stage,  fourteen  feet  below.  There  came  trailing 
down  with  him  a  strip  of  the  starry  corner  of  a  flag  caught  upon  his 
foot.  He  fell  to  one  knee,  faltered,  slowly  rose  and  turned  his  face 
toward  the  people,  and  uttered,  in  a  sepulchral,  enforced  tone,  "  Sz'c 
semper  tyrannis!"  and  raised  the  knife  again.  Then  stooping, 
like  one  with  his  belly  yearning  for  the  ground,  he  made  awkwardly 
the  skipping  strides  of  actors  who  run  off  in  combat-scenes,  and  dis- 
appeared beneath  Nelly's  eyes  toward  the  prompter's  hidden  desk. 

Everything  had  been  done — from  the  firing  of  the  pistol  to  the 
disappearance—in  hardly  one  minute. 


A  SSA  SSINA  TION.  503 

There  passed  over  the  audience  electric  waves  of  wonder,  in- 
quiry, movement,  and  sound.  As  they  wavered  to  understand  it  all, 
the  piece  also  stopped  upoii  the  stage,  and  people  there  came  run- 
ning from  behind  the  painted  scenes  ;  the  orchestra  rose,  and  a  wild 
scream  came  down  from  the  upper  box,  through  the  festooned  flags, 
and  the  portrait  of  Washington.  The  President  sat  as  before,  quiet, 
as  if  the  pleasant  farce  were  going  on,  and  smiles  had  brought  him 
near  to  sleep,  like  babies'  dreams. 

Now,  all  the  audience  was  up,  and  people  were  pushing  at  the 
little  door  behind  the  President,  and  against  the  dress-circle  wall. 
They  could  not  for  a  moment  get  in  there,  and  began  to  scale  the 
posts  and  gilded  pilasters  of  the  box ;  while  other  people  clambered 
over  the  orchestra  tins  and  wire-nettings,  and  ran  across  the  stage 
— some  hither,  some  thither — in  a  maze  that  plain  wayfarers  never 
had  explored.  Actors  and  actresses  came  out  in  their  fancy  attires, 
powder,  and  rouge ;  and  some  wanted  to  faint,  some  to  help,  and 
everybody  pointed,  explained,  and  shouted. 

There  stood  upon  the  mimic  stage  a  dair^^  scene — like  that  where 
the  President's  fate  had  been  foretold  on  John's  Brown's  farm — partly 
flanked  by  a  toy  fence,  and  masked  by  a  wing  of  other  scenery,  with 
a  bird-house  and  bench  before  the  dairy,  the  front  scene  now  torn 
open  in  the  spasmodic  actions  of  some  thirty  people  employed  upon 
that  stage. 

God  had  called  the  emancipator  home  when  there  were  "no 
cares  upon  his  face." 

As  the  President  was  carried  down  the  stairs,  Nelly  followed, 
being  among  the  last  to  leave,  and  she  saw  his  body  enter  a  dwell- 
ing opposite,  where  Booth  had  at  one  time  lodged  with  a  fellow- 
actor. 

At  this  moment  the  fellow-actor,  in  another  lodging,  was  burn- 
ing Mr.  Booth's  labored  confession,  in  the  terror  of  one  on  whom 
had  been  pilloried  a  deadly  secret. 

"I  know  the  red-bird  now,"  sighed  Nelly  Harbaugh,  "and  he 
has  marked  me  with  the  dark  !  In  the  morning  they  will  find  me 
neither  dark  nor  white,  but  where  poor  Lincoln  is,  asking  Him  to  try 
my  cause." 


504  KATY  OF  CATOCrnW 

CHAPTER   XLVI. 

FLIGHT   OF   SPIES. 

Abel  Quantrell  sat  on  Good-Friday  night  in  his  house, 
preparing  to  antagonize  the  President ;  and  Katy  was  reading 
from  Lincoln's  speech  on  the  third  anniversary  of  the  Baltimore 
riots : 

"  Calling  to  fnznd  that  we  are  in  Baltimore,  we  can  not  fail  to 
note  that  the  world  moves.  Three  years  ago,  those  soldiers  could 
not  pass  through  Baltimore.  I  would  say  blessings  upon  the  men 
who  have  wrought  these  changes,  and  the  women  who  have  as- 
sisted thein  !  " 

"  That  means  you  and  Davis  here,"  said  Senator  Pittson,  "  and 
here  you  are  '  blessing'  the  President  up  and  down  hill." 

"  Oh,  what  a  scene  was  that !  "  spoke  Hannah  Ritner.  "  The  old 
negroes  and  the  children,  the  fair  girls  and  the  new-married  pairs, 
weeping,  and  singing,  and  praising  God,  when  the  tall,  tender  man 
came  past— and  they  say  it  has  been  the  same  in  Washington  and 
Richmond.  Oh,  why  be  so  impatient  with  him,  friends,  when  these 
poor  slaves  have  waited  for  him  trustfully  these  hundred  years  ?  " 

"  Lincoln  is  a  fine  politician,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  who  now  had  two 
Maryland  senators,  and  nearly  all  the  delegation  in  Congress,  but 
considered  that  he  was  no  politician  at  all ;  "  I  wish  he  would  move 
in  here,  and  show  me  how  to  let  all  the  returning  rebels  vote,  and 
yet  not  break  him  down.  I  see  the  same  soured  element  returning, 
and  they  will  wheedle  our  Presidents  away,  and  we  shall  always  be 
thirty  years  behind  the  North  and  West — afraid  to  say  '  Liberty ' 
loud,  singing  the  old  pine-tree  Maryland  whine,  and  rather  rejoicing 
that  we  are  wrong." 

"  Cube  it,"  said  old  Abel  Quantrell,  looking  like  the  face  of  Moses 
carved  on  his  broken  tablets.  "  Liberty  is  not  a  gift,  but  the  return- 
ing of  a  right.  The  gift  is  the  ballot.  Freedom  itself  is  a  coun- 
terfeit without  civil  rights.  Put  me  to  sleep  among  the  blacks,  and 
let  Gabriel  call  me  when  Africa  is  white  !  " 

Senator  Pittson  observed  that  Winter  Davis  a  little  flinched  at 
this,  though  with  grim  admiration. 

"  O  friends  !  "  said  Lloyd's  half-brother,  "  all  true  legislation  is  for 
the  present.     See  how  we  have  got  along ;  and  the  greatest  man 


FLIGHT  OF  SPIES. 


505 


on  the  globe  this  day,  in  popular  faith,  is  Uncle  Abraham.     I  trem- 
ble for  his  perfectness  of  fame." 

The  door  opened,  and  Light  Pittson  entered  on  the  arm  of  Lu- 
ther Bosler.     Light's  father  looked  up  with  a  quick  interest. 

"  Senator,"  said  Luther,  "  this  lady  is  to  be  my  wife." 

They  all  started  up  except  Abel  Quantrell,  whose  limbs  would 
no  longer  bear  him,  and  he  made  a  motion  to  Hannah  Ritner,  who 
came  and  kissed  him,  while  Katy  and  Light's  father  alternately  em- 
braced the  affianced  couple. 

As  Mr.  Davis  departed,  the  old  radical  spoke  from  his  wheeled 
chair,  bringing  it  forward  : 

"  Bosler,  in  this  house  we  pretend  nothing.  Do  you  know  that 
I  am  the  father  of  this  boy,  and  that  this  saint  should  be  my  wife.''  " 

He  pointed  to  the  senator  and  to  Hannah  Ritner.  They  looked 
at  the  lover  calmly,  yet  both  were  anxious  for  his  response. 

"  I  have  known  it  long,"  replied  Luther  Bosler.  "  To  give  this 
lady  my  name  has  been  my  purpose,  since  I  first  discovered  the  pos- 
sibihty  of  a  misapprehension." 

He  reached  his  hand  to  Abel  Quantrell's  grandchild,  but  she  was 
gone  from  his  side,  and  now  stood  with  flashing  and  indignant  eyes, 
comprehending  a  situation  she  had  never  anticipated. 

"  Spare  yourself,  sir,"  said  Light  Pittson,  "an  act  of  charity!  It 
was  for  this  you  professed  to  love  me  !  I  know  the  blemish  in  my 
nature  now,  and  it  points  me  where  to  fly.  The  man  who  is  all  ro- 
mance, and  against  whom  I  have  been  so  hypocritically  warned  be- 
cause he  was  not  pure  enough  for  me,  implored  me  to  leave  Wash- 
ington with  him  this  night.  I  will  not  return  there,  but  will  follow 
him  to  where  my  friend,  my  uncle  Lloyd,  fights  in  Virginia,  and  I 
shall  be  the  wife  of  Mr.  Booth  !  " 

"  O  Light ! "  spoke  Katy  Bosler,  seeing  the  trouble  of  the  senator 
and  his  parents.  "  Am  I  so  wicked  ?  Yet  where  is  my  wedding- 
ring  }  " 

The  door-bell  rang  as  the  town  clocks  sounded  midnight.  Hugh 
Fenwick,  entering,  exclaimed  : 

"  It  is  too  true — Wilkes  Booth  has  killed  the  President !  The 
Secretary  of  State  has  been  butchered  !  The  assassin's  companion, 
following  him  across  the  navy-yard  bridge,  gave  the  name  of  Lloyd 
Quantrell ! " 

At  this  appalling  information  the  silence  was  long,  till  broken  by 
Light  Pittson 's  asseveration  : 
22 


5o6 


A^ATV  OF  CATOCTIN. 


"  I  will  marry  Mr.  Booth,  if  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  ! " 

Abel  Quantrell  looked  up  at  Hannah  Ritner  with  a  hard  but 
ghastly  face. 

"  Three  times  the  base  is  the  cube,"  said  he.  "  Am  I  not  happy 
in  my  posterity  }  " 

"  I  don't  believe  it  was  Lloyd  ! "  cried  Katy  Bosler. 

"  No,  child,"  spoke  Abel  Quantrell,  upon  the  inward  breath  of  a 
groan,  "  for  both  my  sons  had  honest  mothers." 

"  Fenwick,"  exclaimed  Hannah  Ritner,  "  did  you  warn  that 
woman  Surratt,  as  you  swore  to  do  under  the  altar  of  your  church  } 
I  see  you  did  not !     I  arrest  you,  sir,  as  one  of  the  assassins  ! " 

Before  he  could  reply,  she  had  taken  hold  of  him  with  a  grasp  of 
man's  strength,  and  drawn  a  bunch  of  keys  from  his  clothing. 

"  Major  Bosler,  take  these  ;  arrest  this  man,  and  search  his  room 
and  trunk.  If  he  has  done  Lloyd  Quantrell  an  injury,  they  shall 
settle  it,  man  to  man  ! " 

Old  Abel  Quantrell's  head  fell  down.  The  second  stroke  of  pa- 
ralysis had  come  to  him. 

The  interview  between  Nelly  Harbaugh  and  Light  Pittson  had 
commenced  in  hostility,  and  ended  in  good  influence ;  for  behind  it 
had  been  Hannah  Ritner,  her  object  a  double  one— to  reveal  Booth's 
impurity  to  Light,  and  have  her  awaken  in  Nelly's  nature  a  new  in- 
terest in  the  actor,  that  his  dangerous  character  might  be  under 
Nelly's  control. 

Booth  had  now  fallen  entirely  under  the  malignant  influence  of 
his  contemplated  crime,  and  he  deceived  both  women  :  secretive  as 
the  grave  to  Nelly  while  daily  in  her  chamber,  and  though  forbidden 
by  Light  to  see  her  again,  his  pen  was  at  work  vainly  seeking  to 
have  her  meet  him  in  Virginia.  He  desired  to  enter  there  with  the 
double  trophy  of  a  "  Yankee  "  senator's  daughter  and  the  President's 
death.  Light  Pittson  attracted  his  lower  nature,  and  her  sympathy 
with  the  misfortunes  of  the  Southern  people,  of  late  unreservedly 
expressed,  caused  her  name  to  be  more  closely  linked  with  Booth's 
than  the  facts  warranted,  and  gave  her  parents  many  apprehensions, 
who  now  knew  the  unprincipled  relations  of  that  worthless  person 
in  many  an  unguarded  woman's  life  ! 

Booth  was  piqued  that  Nelly  Starr,  as  she  was  called,  valued 
Luther's  love,  while  he,  her  injurer,  had  never  gained  her  heart ; 
and  he  had  a  grudge  against  Senator  Pittson  for  ruling  him  out  of 


FLIGHT  OF  SPIES. 


507 


Light's  society.  On  the  other  hand,  Nelly  relieved  Luther  Bosler 
from  any  suspicion  of  having  prejudiced  Booth,  and  showed  Light 
that  Lloyd  Quantrell  had  taken  that  pains. "  She  exceeded  her  own 
intentions  when  she  found  the  excellences  of  Miss  Pittson's  nature, 
and  freely  implored  her  to  see  the  gentleness  and  merit  of  the  sol- 
dier Nelly  had  sacrificed  and  lost. 

It  was  from  this  advice,  and  from  loathing  evil,  that  Light  ac- 
cepted the  officer  in  time  to  hear  that  her  own  family  had  been 
throwing  stones  at  others  from  a  house  of  glass.  Their  trouble 
was  the  deeper,  that  now  the  world  would  mention  Light's  name 
as  connected  with  Booth  in  a  tender  passion. 

If  she  would  only  marr)'  Luther  Bosler  before  the  scandal  could 
get  well  abroad ! 

Nelly  Starr  had  undertaken,  from  both  ambition  and  loneliness, 
to  remodel  Booth's  education,  to  study  his  parts  with  him,  and  get 
out  of  his  mind  the  rant  and  fustian  of  his  old  father's  exam- 
ple. 

She  found  him  headstrong  and  incurable.  With  profound  belief 
in  himself,  and  enamored  of  his  one  bloody  idea — the  wickedest  in 
the  land,  but  he  thought  it  the  greatest — he  already  lived  in  the  satis- 
faction of  one  famed  and  great.  He  was  like  the  man  in  the  tale, 
who  had  tried  to  discover  where  the  unforgiven  sin  was,  and  thrilled 
with  the  conceit  that  it  was  monopolized  in  his  own  breast.* 

The  intuition  that  there  was  something  too  deep  for  her  in 
Booth's  thought  and  intention,  rallied  all  the  energies  of  Nelly's 
nature,  and  Hannah  Ritner  kept  the  motive  alive.  Nelly  sounded 
him  about  the  President,  and  he  even  complimented  Mr.  Lincoln. 
She  inquired  about  his  prospects. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  I  was  always  popular  South,  and  now  we 
shall  have  peace,  and  I  will  be  the  first  to  enter  there,  and  you  and  I 
will  draw  great  houses,  Nelly." 

On  the  day  of  the  murder  he  came  to  her  again,  renewed  the 
protestations  and  endearments  of  deceitful  love,  and  bade  her  go  to 
Ford's  Theatre  that  night,  as  he  had  requested  many  others,  in  the 
egotism  of  his  bloody  patent-right.  Later  on,  he  sent  her  word  that 
he  would  call  for  her,  but,  finding  his  time  spent,  she  heard  by  acci- 
dent from  Atzerodt  the  explanation  of  his  myster)',  and  hastened  to 
the  theatre,  forever  too  late ! 

When  the  officers  came  to  seek  the  assassin's  mistress,  as  the 
*  Hawthorne,  "Ethan  Brand." 


508  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

papers  related,  they  found  her  insensible,  and  an  empty  bottle  of 
chloroform  at  her  side.* 

Liquor  crazed  the  Booths,  but  made  them  "letter-perfect,"  as  the 
actors  would  relate,  in  their  parts  :  so  Wilkes  Booth  had  an  unnat- 
ural brightening  of  his  faculties  all  that  day,  and  when  the  moment 
approached  to  carry  out  his  threat,  he  merely  drank  more  often  and 
more  regularly,  and  his  last  act  in  front  of  the  theatre  was  to  drink 
alone,  at  a  bar;  next  he  stepped  into  the  lobby  and  noted  the 
time,  and  then  he  climbed  the  dress-circle  stairs  and  made  his  way, 
with  spurs  upon  his  feet,  along  the  wall  to  the  right,  behind  the 
stools  and  chairs  packed  there,  asking  one  person  to  move,  or  bow- 
ing to  another,  until  he  was  within  a  few  steps  of  the  little  door  en- 
tering the  box  passage. 

There  he  paused,  put  his  low-crowned,  slouched  hat  behind  his 
back,  and  inclined  his  head  forward,  with  a  large  seal  ring  on  his 
little  finger  raised  to  his  chin. 

His  head  was  broad,  the  forehead  large,  and  the  black  hair, 
parted  behind,  had  a  curling  tendency  ;  and  the  nearly  straight, 
heavy,  black  eyebrows  shaded  black  eyes  which  wore  a  look  between 
modesty  and  obduracy,  and,  in  conjunction  with  the  decisiveness  of 
the  mouth,  conveyed  the  idea  of  dangerous  equipoise,  needing  only  a 
breath  from  the  willful  soul  within  to  overturn  the  whole  fabric  of 
the  man. 

His  nose  was  thin  and  not  prominent,  rather  subordinate  to  the 
brow.  In  his  expression  could  be  felt  the  influence  of  both  alcohol 
and  self-consciousness.  His  chin  was  small,  and  the  rich  black 
mustache  around  the  mouth  hid  a  commonness  there,  and  his  neck 
was  scarred  just  above  the  collar  by  both  a  tumor  and  a  wound. 

He  weighed  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds,  was  hardly  five  feet 
eight,  and  unusually  compactly  set,  the  child  of  a  large,  healthy 
Englishwoman,  who  survived  him  more  than  twenty  years,  and  of 
a  small,  Jewish-marked,  and  acutely  organized  English  father. 

The  lower  portion  of  this  young  man's  face  was  almost  generic 
in  Baltimore.  His  clothes  were  dark,  bound  with  silk  trimmings, 
and  he  was  not  unobserved  by  many,  most  of  whom  saw  only  the 

*  "  The  detectives  proceeded  to  the  house  at  the  corner  of  Thirteenth  Street 
and  Ohio  Avenue,  vi'here  Booth  spent  much  of  his  time,  Ella  Starr,  the  woman 
who  attempted  suicide,  being  his  mistress."— "  Washington  Star,"  April  17, 
1865. 


FLIGHT  OF  SPIES. 


509 


fine,  sparkling  contrasts  of  his  face  and  did  not  know  his  name. 
He  had  avoided  the  company  of  the  average  stock  actors  as  beneath 
his  notice,  to  shower  time  and  favors  upon  ignorant  dependents. 

He  now  pushed  the  last  chair  aside,  took  a  card  from  a  case, 
and  handed  it  to  a  messenger  of  the  President,  who  read  the  name 
and  hesitated. 

"  He  has  just  sent  for  me,"  said  Booth,  "and  is  expecting  me." 

The  messenger  heard  the  words,  looked  into  the  serious,  respect- 
ful countenance,  and  said  no  more. 

Booth  stepped  down  one  step,  as  the  circles  inclined,  and  pressed 
the  door  at  once  with  his  hand  and  knee  :  the  loosened  screws  came 
out,  and  he  entered  the  passage  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
He  took  the  wooden  stick  from  a  corner  and  barred  the  door  against 
the  audience. 

He  then  bent  his  eye  from  that  darkness  to  the  eyelet-hole,  and 
saw  the  President,  with  his  head  a  little  turned  from  the  stage,  ex- 
posing his  neck  and  the  lower  portion  of  his  brain  to  the  assassin. 

Mr.  Lincoln  was  seated  in  a  cushioned  and  arm-furnished  rock- 
ing-chair at  the  angle  of  the  box  nearest  the  audience,  and  immedi- 
ately before  the  door  Booth  had  bored  ;  in  placing  his  seat  there  the 
confederate  had  allowed  for  a  space  between  him  and  the  next 
chair,  for  the  assassin  to  escape  by. 

Booth  saw  to  the  buttoning  of  his  coat,  drew  the  Derringer 
pistol  from  his  pocket,  opened  the  door,  and  fired  the  powerful  slug 
into  the  President's  brain,  his  weapon  nearly  against  Mr.  Lincoln's 
skull.  The  sting  and  smoke  produced  a  kind  of  paralysis  among 
all  in  the  box. 

He  immediately  dropped  the  Derringer  upon  the  floor  of  the 
private  box  and  drew  a  large  bowie-knife,  and,  rushing  to  the  front 
of  the  box,  shouted  in  the  deepest  tragedy  tones  : 

"  Revenge  for  the  South  ! " 

The  officer  in  that  box  was  the  step-son  of  a  senator,  and  the 
young  lady  there  was  his  espoused  wife.  He  came  forward  and 
took  hold  of  Booth,  uncertain  what  the  intrusion  meant,  when  the 
assassin,  in  the  frenzy  between  desperation  and  drink,  endeavored 
to  stab  him  to  the  heart ;  but  the  officer's  left  arm  was  interposed, 
and  the  sharp  blade  ripped  it  from  the  elbow  almost  to  the  shoulder. 

As  the  inmates  of  the  box  recoiled,  and  the  wife  of  the  President 
screamed,  the  murderer,  whose  victim  sat  unmoved  and  unprotest- 
ing,  rushed  between  Mr.  Lincoln  and  his  wife  to  the  railing,  cleared 


5IO 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


away  a  festooning  flag  with  a  motion  of  his  clinched  hand  and  the 
knife-handle,  and  by  his  unemployed  left  hand  vaulted  over  to  the 
stage  below.     Everj-  motion  had  been  rehearsed  again  and  again. 

The  matter  of  these  exterior  ornaments — there  being  three  differ- 
ent flags  upon  the  broad  united  box — he  could  not  provide  as  per- 
fectly for,  and  in  descending  more  than  twice  his  own  stature  his 
spur  was  caught  by  a  ravished  blue  ensign,  and  he  was  thrown  out 
of  his  adjustment  and  struck  the  stage  upon  the  opposite  foot,  and 
came  down  with  a  swooning  feeling  that,  for  an  instant,  threatened 
to  detain  him  there  until  he  could  be  seized. 

In  the  leg  of  a  man  are  two  long  bones,  the  thinner  one,  called 
the  fibula,  or  splinter-bone,  being  on  the  outside,  and  serving  to 
keep  the  ankle  from  turning  outward.  It  lies  there  somewhat  like  a 
ramrod  on  the  outside  of  a  gun.  By  the  unexpected  shock  of  falling 
on  this  foot  only,  the  rather  unusual  accident  resulted  of  the  imme- 
diate fracture  of  this  bone  alone,  and  not  of  the  accompanying  stock, 
or  larger  bone ;  but  it  produced  a  momentary  nervous  shock  in  the 
assassin's  whole  system. 

Booth  rallied  his  powers,  exclaimed,  "Sic  semper  tyrannis!" 
according  to  rote,  and  limped  across  the  stage  to  the  opposite  wing, 
more  sobered  than  he  had  been  at  any  stage  of  the  tragedy.* 

As  he  proceeded,  between  pain  and  ferocity,  he  resolved  to  slash 
and  kill  anybody  who  came  in  his  way.  His  confederate  had  cleared 
him  a  lane  to  escape  down — the  scenery  piled  against  the  wall ;  and 
when  Booth,  who  had  dropped  his  hat  as  he  entered  the  box,  had 
nearly  reached  the  back  door,  he  met  the  orchestra  leader  and  cut 
twice  at  him  and  kicked  him,  and  the  back  door  mysteriously  swing- 
ing open  in  his  face,  he  passed  out,  and  it  shut  behind  him. 

The  boy  "  Peanuts  "  stood  there  holding  his  horse,  as  Spangler 
had  ordered  him  to  do,  and  weary,  after  being  exposed  a  whole  hour 
in  the  lonely  night  in  that  passive  task,  he  had  been  aroused  from  his 
orphan  meditations  by  the  firing  of  the  pistol ;  and  suddenly  a  man 
ran  upon  him,  cursing  and  shouting : 

"  Give  me  that  horse  !  " 

With  one  foot  in  the  stirrup,  Booth  turned  and  struck  the  boy 
savagely  with  the  butt  of  the  knife,  and  knocked  him  down  upon 
the  cobble-stones  and  kicked  him  there. 

*  Booth  said  to  Thomas  Harbin,  in  Virginia,  that  if  he  had  not  been  a  very 
courageous  man  he  would  have  given  up  and  have  been  taken  right  there,  as 
he  for  an  instant  seemed  about  to  faint. 


FLIGHT  OF  SPIES. 


511 


Then,  digging  his  spurs  into  his  horse,  he  turned  out  of  the  nar- 
row alley  and  spurred  again,  so  that  the  animal  ran  up  on  the  oppo- 
site pavement  under  St.  Patrick's  old  brick  church. 

"  Ride  hard  ! "  cried  Booth  to  Herold,  waiting  there  ;  "  the  devil 
is  to  pay  !  " 

They  turned  at  Ninth  Street,  and  went  two  blocks  behind  the 
Patent-Office,  and  passed  Mrs.  Surratt's  door  at  a  full  run ;  and, 
crossing  the  naked  Judiciary  Square,  between  the  Court-House  and 
the  old  jail,  descended  the  next  street  beyond  the  City  Hall,  and 
crossed  the  little  Tiber  on  the  Avenue. 

The  moon  came  out  as  they  galloped  up  the  slopes  of  Capitol 
Hill,  and  a  few  people  passing  there  turned  to  see  such  fierce  riding. 

"Walk  your  horse,  Dave,"  said  Booth  to  Herold,  "and  let  me 
get  over  the  navy-yard  bridge  before  you  come.  I  want  you  to 
give  the  name  there  of  Ouantrell.  I'll  fix  that  fellow  as  I  have  fixed 
Sam  Arnold,  who  deserted  me ;  for  I  have  left  his  letters  to  me  in 
my  trunk  at  the  hotel,  and  they'll  hang  him,  sure  ! " 

When  Herold  reached  the  bridge,  a  few  minutes  after  Booth,  he 
added  to  Quantrell's  name  the  information  that  he  had  been  on  a 
low  female  carouse  in  the  city.  The  sergeant,  in  the  kindly  glow  of 
restored  peace,  passed  both  these  murderers.  After  they  crossed 
the  bridge.  Booth  got  with  difficulty  and  pain  on  Herold's  easier 
riding-horse — the  same  once  owned  by  Hannah  Ritner. 

In  the  mean  time  Herold  had  ridden  with  Payne  to  the  door  of 
the  Secretary  of  State,  in  an  old  tall  brick  house,  on  a  secluded  side 
of  the  President's  green  square.  At  the  next  comer  below,  in  a 
brick  dwelling,  was  the  headquarters  of  the  commander  of  the  city 
of  Washington,  where  generally  orderlies  and  horses  were  to  be 
found  ready  to  take  dispatches ;  but  these  murderers  had  chosen  a 
late  hour  of  the  night,  when  the  military  business  was  done,  and 
while  peace  was  so  far  insured  that  discipline  was  much  relaxed. 

Leaping  from  his  horse,  Payne  handed  the  bridle  to  Herold,  who 
sat  there  with  a  foolish  smirk  of  dread. 

The  tall  brigand,  with  perfectly  beardless  face,  and  something  of 
an  Indian  in  bearing  and  in  straight  black  hair,  and  with  a  powerful 
columnar  neck  and  broad  chest,  walked  up  to  the  bell  and  rang  it. 

He  wore  the  heaviest  cast-off  boots  of  Wilkes  Booth,  black  cloth 
trousers,  an  overcoat  of  white  and  brown,  conspicuous  in  the  night, 
a  dark-gray  undercoat,  and  a  slouched  brown  hat.    He  was  familiar 


512 


KATY  OF  C A  TO C tin: 


with  saber  and  knife  exercise,  and  had  been  kept  sober  until  just 
before  this  essay,  when  he  was  toned  up  to  his  bloody  work  by 
drink. 

He  had  disappeared  within  the  hall-way,  perhaps  five  to  seven 
minutes,  when  Herold,  sitting  on  the  horse  in  morbid  apprehension, 
heard  cries  and  shouts  within  the  old  gloomy  house,  and  the  sound 
of  blows  and  of  falling  bodies. 

The  horses  raised  their  ears,  and  moved  around  their  halters  un- 
easily. 

"  Murder !  Murder  !  Murder  !  "  came  in  a  half-stifled  outburst 
from  the  mysterious  interior,  and  was  followed  by  the  same  terrible 
word  in  a  piercing  scream  from  a  lifted  window  at  the  eaves. 

Herold  let  go  of  the  halter  of  the  other  horse,  and  stuck  his  spurs 
into  his  own  fleet  roan. 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  "  came  the  single-footed  racking 
echoes  out  of  the  old  cobble-stones,  and  the  horse  turned  the  mili- 
tary headquarters  and  skipped  down  the  softer  avenue,  until,  at  Wil- 
lard's  Hotel  comer,  a  man  rushed  out  at  Herold,  crying  : 

"  Here,  now  !  Get  off  that  horse  !  I  didn't  hire  him  to  you  to 
ride  all  night !  " 

Seeing  the  liver}^-man,  but  not  recognizing  him  in  the  terror  of 
the  moment,  Herold  wheeled  up  Fourteenth  Street,  past  the  news- 
paper correspondents'  offices,  and,  turning  down  F  Street,  had  barely 
paused  at  the  outlet  of  the  alley,  when  Booth  burst  out,  and  they 
joined  in  fierce,  wild  flight,  as.  has  been  seen. 


CHAPTER   XLVn. 


The  Secretar}'  of  State  was  a  man  almost  sixty-four,  of  slight 
and  dehcate  structure,  and  without  any  personal  enemies  except 
those  whose  unjust  interests  felt  the  silver  arrows  of  his  argument. 
In  youth  he  had  been  a  tutor  in  a  slave  State,  and  formed  the  opin- 
ion that  the  systems  of  free  and  slave  labor  were  irreconcilable.  As 
Governor  and  senator  of  the  most  powerful  State  in  the  Union,  he 
nurtured  freedom  among  the  young  men  and  made  it  captivating, 
and  now  was  triumphantly  closing  the  greatest  career  of  any  foreign 


PA  YNE.  5  I  3 

secretary  from  the  New  World.  The  same  hand  which  sealed  the 
Proclamation  of  Emancipation  had  foiled  Europe  in  its  attempts  to 
divide  the  raiment  of  the  republic,  and  was  yet  to  settle  with  the 
crowned  puppet  in  Mexico,  and  also  to  terminate  Russian  rule  in 
America. 

Ten  days  previous  to  this  Good  Friday  Mr.  Seward  had  been 
thrown  from  his  carriage  and  his  jaw  and  arm  broken,  and  he  was 
now  lying  helpless  in  his  bed.  With  cruel  indifference,  Booth  con- 
sidered that  these  disabilities  made  it  the  easier  to  dispatch  him, 
and  used  the  package  of  medicine  to  procure  for  Payne  admittance 
to  his  chamber  of  sickness. 

The  ruffian  entered,  and  was  dressed  as  neatly  as  Booth  could 
afford.  He  stated  to  a  colored  boy  in  the  hall  that  the  doctor  had 
sent  verbal  instructions  by  him  about  taking  the  medicine,  and 
spoke  awhile  plausibly  in  a  soft,  fine  voice  through  his  thin  lips ; 
but,  as  the  black  boy  protested  that  Payne  could  not  go  up-stairs, 
Payne  thrust  his  right  hand  in  his  white-overcoat  pocket  and  said  he 
should  go  Vi^,\\\V\i  a  menacing  air,  somewhat  considering  whether 
he  should  not  dispatch  the  door-keeper  on  the  spot. 

Finally,  he  started  up  the  stairs  alone,  the  uncertain  boy  preced- 
ing him,  and  at  the  top  of  the  house— the  third  story— the  eldest 
son  of  the  invalid,  who  was  the  Assistant  Secretary  of  State,  came 
out  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

The  man,  holding  up  the  package,  repeated  that  the  doctor  had 
sent  him  to  make  a  personal  communication  to  Mr.  Seward. 

At  this  the  son  unwittingly  entered  his  father's  room,  thus  laying 
bare  its  location  to  the  murderer ;  but,  coming  back  in  an  instant, 
he  said : 

"  Father  is  asleep  now ;  give  me  the  medicine,  and  I  will  repeat 
the  doctor's  instructions  to  him." 

Payne  said  that  would  not  do,  and  kept  insisting  with  rising  ag- 
gressiveness that  he  must  go  in,  until  peremptorily  told  to  retire. 
He  muttered  an  assent  of  disappointment,  turned  a  step  down  the 
stairway,  and  then  leaped  back  with  his  heavy  pistol  in  his  hand, 
and  proceeded,  cavalryman-fashion,  to  beat  in  young  Mr.  Seward's 
skull,  merely  saying  in  a  low,  vengeful  tone  : 

"  I'm  mad  !  I'm  mad  ! " 

His  temper  was  a  fierce  paroxysm,  indiscriminate,  and  bent  on 
massacre. 

The  upper  floor  of  that  lonely  house  had  been  for  some  time  a 


514 


KATY   OF   CATOCTIN. 


kind  of  hospital ;  the  aged  Secretary's  wife  also  lying  maimed  and 
ill  in  an  adjacent  room,  and  she  was  to  expire,  her  death  accelerated 
by  this  night's  events,  within  a  few  weeks.*  The  Sewards  were  an 
affectionately  domestic  family,  and  their  daughter  Fanny — who  also 
died  before  many  months — and  their  eldest  son's  wife,  occupied  this 
remote  upper  floor,  with  the  two  sons — the  Assistant  Secretary 
aforesaid  and  Major  Seward — and  a  wounded  soldier-nurse  detailed 
from  one  of  the  hospitals. 

The  helpless  statesman  had  been  unable  to  sleep  all  day,  with 
fever  and  debilitation,  and  had  just  dropped  into  repose  when  the 
solid,  decisive  tread  of  a  man  was  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  Fanny 
Seward  said  to  the  soldier — a  lad  from  the  forests  of  Maine,  named 
Robinson  :  "  I  wonder  who  that  is  ?  Some  one  not  used  to  approach- 
ing sick-rooms,  I  should  think  !  " 

The  same  tread  called  Assistant  Secretary  Frederick  Seward 
from  his  wife's  room,  in  the  front  of  the  house  ;  and  he,  confront- 
ing this  stranger  with  the  package,  only  observed  that  the  man 
was  rather  dull  in  understanding,  and  imputed  his  obstinacy  to  his 
fidelity  to  the  doctor. 

Payne,  indeed,  was  of  a  low  order  of  intelligence,  approximating 
to  the  family  slaves  he  had  been  overseer  of,  and  his  mental  organ- 
ization was  both  inharmonious  and  deficient ;  his  eyes  without  the 
radiance  of  mind,  the  two  sides  of  his  head  unsymmetrical,  his 
memory  slow,  and  his  moral  distinctions  weak.  Education  might 
have  disciplined  and  aroused  his  mind,  but  the  instinctive  habits  of 
the  Alabama  plantation,  and  the  school  of  war,  had  made  him  only 
a  machine  of  his  savage  temper.  The  obstacles  he  encountered 
aroused  this  to  the  highest  pitch  before  he  had  struck  a  blow. 
Booth  had  set  his  mechanism  like  a  clock  to  this  hour,  and  the 
alarm-spring  was  now  released. 

Frederick  Seward  had  closed  the  sick-chamber  door  behind  him 
when  he  returned,  but  Fanny  Seward,  his  sister,  opened  it  to  see 
what  the  messenger  wanted,  and  left  it  partly  open.  Therefore, 
when  the  assassin  turned  back,  and  with  all  his  strength  beat  his 
great  navy  revolver  on  Frederick's  head,  he  also  rushed  for  the  door 
ajar;  but  the  stunned  man,  with  affection  almost  stronger  than  life 
— his  head  open  to  the  brain — slipped  before  the  assassin,  blindly 
groping  against  the  wall,  and  pulled  the  door  fast  and  staggered  be- 

*  Mrs.  Seward  died  June  21,  1865,  surviving  the  assassination  about  seven 
weeks,  and  departing  two  weeks  before  the  execution  of  Mary  E.  Surratt. 


PA  Y.VE.  5  I  5 

fore  it,  so  that  Payne  could  not  reach  the  knob,  but  continued  to  beat 
his  frail  obstructor,  and  again  fractured  his  skull  with  the  pistol. 

The  gas  in  this  landing-hall  burned  bright,  and  Frederick  Sew- 
ard's wife  came  out,  wondering,  in  time  to  see  her  husband  and  a 
giant,  in  a  great  white  coat,  fall  into  the  sick-room  through  the 
burst-open  door. 

For  months  this  son  was  speechless,  and  between  life  and  death. 

The  sick-room  had  a  single  gas-light  turned  low,  and  on  the 
farther  side,  near  the  front  window,  was  the  statesman's  bed,  in 
which  he  was  raised  to  an  inclined  position  by  a  skeleton  hospital 
apparatus,  and  was  leaning  over  the  farther  side  of  the  bed  so  as  to 
let  his  broken  right  arm,  in  the  bandages,  be  free  of  the  bed-frame.* 

The  assassin  in  the  dim  light  discovered  his  victim,  and  drew  his 
knife.  His  hat  had  fallen  off,  and,  as  he  bounded  toward  the  bed, 
the  soldier-nurse  interposed,  and  was  felled  to  the  floor  by  a  down- 
ward thrust  of  the  knife  in  the  scalp  ;  and  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Sew- 
ard also  coming  between,  Payne  with  his  left  hand  hurled  her  aside 
and  threw  himself  across  the  bed,  holding  the  sick  man  down  with 
one  hand,  and  stabbing  him  with  the  other. 

The  eldest  son's  interference  had  deranged  the  assassin's  sight 
or  nerves,  and,  aiming  to  cut  Mr.  Seward's  throat,  he  merely  cut  his 
cheek  nearly  off,  and  wounded  his  neck.  The  bowie-knife  had  an 
upper  edge  and  sharp  upturned  point,  and,  hastening  to  complete 
his  work,  Payne  drew  it  backward,  and  also  slashed  the  lower  side 
of  the  secretary's  neck. 

As  Payne  was  about  to  complete  his  work,  the  soldier-nurse,  still 
suffering  from  a  battle-wound  in  the  leg,  leaped  upon  his  back  in  the 
bed  and  seized  his  upraised  arm,  while  Miss  Fanny  Seward  cried, 
"  Don't  let  them  carry  father  off  ! "  and  she  threw  up  a  side-window 
overlooking  the  near  President's  mansion,  and  screamed  "  Mur- 
der ! " 

The  house  was  now  alarmed,  but  not  a  weapon  was  at  hand  for 
defense,  while  the  murderer  still  had  a  revolver  full  of  balls  and  his 
blood-dyed  knife.  The  colored  boy  had  run  down  the  two  flights  of 
stairs  to  hunt  assistance  at  the  avenue ;  the  eldest  son  lay  insensible 
in  his  own  blood ;  three  women  were  there,  but  Mr.  Seward's  wife, 
dangerously  ill,  required  the  assistance  of  the  other  two. 

The  Secretary's  younger  son,  in  deep  sleep,  was  now  slowly 

*  How  like  the  wounded  Coligni's  assassination  on  St.  Bartholomew's 
night  I 


5i6  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

aroused  by  the  noise,  and  groped  into  the  hall  in  his  shirt  and 
drawers. 

Nothing  meantime  had  saved  the  great  Secretary's  life  but  the 
common  soldier  and  his  own  astute  action. 

As  soon  as  the  soldier  seized  his  assailant,  Mr.  Seward  rolled 
himself  up  in  the  bedclothes,  dropped  out  on  the  farther  side,  and 
rolled  under  the  shelter  of  the  bedstead. 

The  soldier  from  the  forests  of  Maine  now  grappled  with  the 
soldier  from  the  forests  of  Florida — pine-tree  against  pine — the  one 
gigantic,  hardly  of  man's  age,  armed,  and  in  a  premeditated  task,  to 
which  his  Seminole-like  temper  had  now  fully  aroused  ;*  the  other, 
surprised,  stabbed  in  the  head,  confused,  unarmed,  and  barely  con- 
valescent. Yet  Robinson  clung  to  Payne  as  if  he  had  been  the  last 
resistant  in  the  last  ditch  of  disunion.  Both  had  been  private  sol- 
diers, and  they  fought  with  the  desperation  of  an  ordeal  by  single 
combat. 

The  Floridian — longer,  stronger,  and  padded  in  an  overcoat — 
brought  his  knife  right  over  his  shoulder-blade  backward  and  drove 
it  into  private  Robinson's  shoulder  twice,  to  the  bone. 

The  man  still  held  to  Payne's  arms,  and  pulled  him  off  the  pub- 
lic man's  bed  and  rolled  with  him  on  the  floor.  In  the  oversetting, 
Payne  slipped  his  knife  into  his  pocket  and  gripped  his  heavy  pistol 
there  again  by  the  barrel,  and,  with  the  frenzy  of  a  tiger,  struck 
Robinson,  with  his  right  hand  released  below  the  elbow,  time  and 
again  and  under  the  left  ear,  the  heavy  pistol-butt  seeming  to  split 
the  soldier's  spinal  column.  But  Payne  could  not  shake  the  man 
off,  who  clung  to  him  like  a  sheriff  to  a  highwayman,  and  held  him 
closer,  so  that  he  could  not  fully  command  his  weapons. 

The  assassin  then  dropped  his  pistol,  which  was  found  in  pieces 
on  the  floor,  the  pine-knot  cranium  of  Maine  having  been  too  hard 
for  it;  but  there  was  left  the  bloody  knife,  and  this  Payne  produced 
again,  and  attempted  the  favorite  feat  with  bowie-knife,  of  disem- 
boweling his  detainer  as  they  had  both  leaped  to  their  feet. 

■*  Payne  was  from  Florida,  of  Alabama  birth,  his  family  named  Powell,  and 
it  is  a  curious  suggestion  that  he  may  have  been  related  to  the  Seminole  Osce- 
ola, for  which  see  Benton's  "Thirty  Years,"  vol.  ii,  chap,  xix  :  "The  prime 
mover  in  all  this  mischief,  and  the  leading  agent  in  the  most  atrocious  scene  of 
it,  w£is  a  half-blooded  Indian,  of  little  note  before  that  time,  and  of  no  conse- 
quence in  the  councils  of  his  tribe.  His  name  is  not  to  be  seen  in  the  treaty  of 
Payne's  Landing ;  we  call  him  Powell ;  by  his  tribe  he  was  called  Osceola." — 
Benton's  speech,  1838. 


FA  YiXE,  c  ,  J 

The  agile  soldier  hugged  him  from  behind,  slipping  sidewise  as 
the  knife  was  pulled  upward,  and  also  avoiding  the  hft-strokes 
against  his  breast — for  the  murderer,  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  cut 
upward  and  downward,  toward  groin  and  bowels  below,  and  head 
and  lungs  above.  In  dodging  these  strokes,  Robinson  worked  his 
way  to  the  unknown  maniac's  front,  and  they  clutched  now,  eye  to 
eye,  and  only  one  man  armed. 

Robinson  seized  Payne's  wrist,  pinned  the  knife  to  his  side,  and 
streaming  blood,  while  the  other  was  uninjured,  even  unbruised, 
tripped  his  knee  to  throw  him,  Northern  fashion,  over  his  hip  to  the 
floor. 

The  soldier's  wounded  leg  would  not  support  him  in  the  effort 
to  lift  this  gladiator,  whose  weight  was  nearly  two  hundred  pounds, 
and  all  of  it  brawn ;  as  he  raised  the  great  column  up,  his  leg  be- 
gan to  give  way. 

"I'm  mad!  I'm  mad  !"  the  assassin  gasped  between  his  teeth 
in  the  dim  room,  feeling  that  he  was  finding  his  match. 

Both  men  now  worked  for  each  other's  throats,  and  Robinson 
was  the  quickest.  His  idea  was  to  edge  the  man  over  the  threshold 
and  work  him  against  the  banisters  of  the  stairs,  and  throw  him 
down  the  well  thereof.  Intelligence,  growing  by  steadiness  and 
moral  consciousness,  was  compensating  for  his  loss  of  blood  and 
many  wounds ;  for  this  man  had  come  from  the  land  of  wild  beasts, 
and  had  fought  the  winter,  freezing  at  his  vitals  in  the  roaring  tor- 
rents of  the  Aroostook.  His  alligator  opponent  was  already  sliding 
out,  worried  and  broken-spirited,  and  his  heart  in  his  legs,  when 
the  fresh  son  of  the  Secretary,  almost  undressed,  entered  the  room 
and  took  hold  of  the  assassin. 

Major  Augustus  Seward  had  leaped  to  the  conclusion  that  his 
father  was  delirious,  seeing  a  man  in  the  imperfect  light  firmly  held 
by  another ;  but  taking  hold  of  this  former  person,  he  became  con- 
scious of  a  frantic  strength  and  extraordinary  size,  and  his  next  idea 
was  that  it  was  the  military  nurse— a  stranger  to  most  of  the  house- 
hold—who had  gone  crazy  and  attacked  his  father ;  for  the  sick 
man's  bed  was  empty. 

"  I'm  mad  !  I'm  mad  !  "  repeated  this  stranger  in  a  low  voice,  as 
if  by  rote,  the  vehemence  in  it  gone,  and  this  suggestion  he  derived 
from  Booth,  who  had  told  him  to  pass  for  a  lunatic  after  begin- 
ning the  combat,  and  throw  the  sick  man's  attendants  off  their 
guard. 


5i8  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

"  Major,  for  God's  sake,  let  go  of  me ! "  said  the  nurse,  all  bloody, 
and  now  somewhat  held,  too,  by  the  son. 

The  major  pushed  both  men  toward  the  chamber-door. 

"Take  his  knife  from  this  hand  I  am  holding  and  cut  his 
throat ! "  the  nearly  breathless  attendant  said. 

The  major  still  pushed  the  enclasped  pair  toward  the  door,  and 
there  Payne  let  go  of  Robinson,  and  with  his  left  fist  knocked  him 
down,  while  drawing  the  released  knife  upon  Major  Seward  and 
cutting  him  with  spent  strength  in  the  forehead  and  hand. 

The  assassin  now  sprang  with  the  terror  of  death  toward  the 
stairs,  and  bounded  down  them.  The  whole  combat,  in  all  its 
involutions,  had  hardly  occupied  five  minutes. 

As  he  was  going  down  he  overtook  a  messenger  of  the  State 
Department  escaping  also,  and  Payne,  by  a  forward  blow,  stabbed 
him  between  the  spine  and  the  rib,  and  felled  him  there. 

At  the  street  the  dark-brown  horse  was  just  making  off.  Payne 
pursued  him,  and  mounted  with  the  ease  of  one  long  in  the 
irregular  cavalry,  and  plunged  into  the  miry  ground  of  Vermont 
Avenue,  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness  of  the  scantily  settled 
suburbs  there.  In  mounting  the  horse  he  had  dropped  his  bloody 
knife  in  the  street. 

He  had  wounded  five  men  in  that  encounter,  but  failed  to  take 
the  life  of  any  one,  and  they  all  recovered,  while  his  own  sluggish 
yet  torrid  temperament  had  been  deranged  by  the  courage  and 
pertinacity  of  the  only  and  the  accidental  soldier  encountered  by 
any  of  these  spies. 

With  the  scant  drilling  Payne  had  received  in  the  by-ways  of 
Washington,  he  now  lost  his  way.  Herold  had  been  placed  at  the 
door  by  Booth  to  work  upon  the  pride  of  Payne,  and  make  him  go 
through  with  his  part ;  but  now  Herold  had  run  away,  and  Payne 
was  reduced  to  a  mere  boy  in  spirit,  and  he  forgot  the  roads. 

He  aimed  to  strike  the  old  Bladensburg  toll-gate,  which  stood  at 
the  corner  of  the  road  to  Benning's  Bridge.  Even  in  our  day  the 
inlet  to  this  by-road  from  the  turnpike  is  narrow,  like  a  private  lane, 
and,  though  Booth  had  repeatedly  shown  it  to  his  band,*  Payne 
failed  to  recognize  it. 

He  rode  through  the  northeastern  suburbs  skirting  the  boundary, 

*  John  McCuUough  told  me  that  Booth  put  him  on  a  horse  and  took  him 
to  Benning's  Bridge,  months  before  the  murder,  saying,  "  If  a  man  was  in  a 
scrape,  here  would  be  a  good  lane  to  get  out." 


PA  YNE. 


519 


took  the  old  Bladensburg  pike,  and  followed  it  farther  than  the  East- 
em  Branch  should  be,  and  then  got  into  an  army-road  leading  be- 
tween two  of  the  forts.  Movements  in  those  earthworks  struck  con- 
sternation to  him  ;  he  heard  horses  come  out  from  the  city,  and  the 
picket  called.  So  he  rode  into  a  piece  of  woods,  and,  as  the  moon 
came  out  of  the  horizon,  beheld  his  nearly  white  overcoat  soaked  in 
blood. 

With  a  shudder  he  removed  it,  and  threw  it  upon  the  ground. 

He  saw  his  shadow  in  the  woods,  and  he  had  no  hat  upon  his 
head. 

In  despair  he  took  off  his  undercoat,  and  cut  the  sleeve  from  his 
woolen  shirt  over  the  muscular  arm,  and  made  himself  a  sort  of  cap 
of  it. 

Then  he  rode  his  horse  across  the  fields  and  back  into  the  east- 
ern skirts  of  the  city,  and  finally  felt  his  way  down  toward  a  brook 
in  the  red-clay  soil,  and  saw  broad  water  open  before  him  :  he  recog- 
nized the  Eastern  Branch  he  was  to  cross. 

As  Payne  picked  his  way  toward  the  environing  marshes  to  find 
the  bridge,  cavalry  dashed  down  the  crossing  road,  and  he  heard 
the  guard  doubled  and  set,  and  the  order  given  to  let  no  man  pass 
alive.     The  bells  from  the  city  struck  twelve  o'clock. 

He  turned  back  and  urged  his  horse  with  fury,  until  he  saw  the 
Poor-House  at  the  river's  brink,  and  thought  how  glad  he  would  be 
of  a  refuge  there.  As  he  looked  up,  a  meteor  trailed  across  the  sky, 
and  filled  his  heart  with  superstition. 

He  rode  down  along  a  strand  before  naked  bluffs  of  clay,  and 
turned  up  a  dismal  ravine  from  the  chill  river,  on  whose  summits 
were  some  poor  people's  houses.  In  these  he  heard  animated  talk, 
and  distinguished  the  words  : 

"  Nobody  knows  who  did  it.  It  seemed  like  de  devil  hopped 
down  all  black  and  said — " 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  '  He's  sick  !    Sing  fur  hosannas  ' ! " 

"  What's  dat .'  " 

The  door  opened,  and  heads  appeared. 

"  It's  him — de  devil !  " 

Payne  spurred  his  horse  away,  and  before  he  could  recover  self- 
possession  had  been  stopped  by  a  great  yellow  hospital  on  a  plateau, 
and  not  far  away  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  was  seen  sailing  through 
soft,  fleecy  clouds,  like  Columbus's  t.^^  upright  under  a  setting  swan. 


520  KATY  OF  C A  TO C TIN. 

He  saw  people  ride  out.  The  town  was  alarmed.  Slipping 
from  his  sweating  horse,  he  left  it  forever,  and  crept  away  across  the 
moor-like  April  commons  until  he  saw  a  large  cemetery  rise  under 
the  trees,  with  monuments  and  vaults. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  at  the  old  Virginia  churches  he  had  some- 
times found  an  empty  vault  above  the  ground  to  bivouac  in,  and  he 
tried  the  slabs  upon  several  of  these  Washington  vaults  until  one 
gave  way,  and  he  removed  it  far  enough  to  creep  within  and  lift 
the  slab  back  by  his  back  and  shoulders. 

He  then  lay  down  in  the  cold  stone  walls,  felt  the  glutinous  blood 
on  his  coat-sleeve  at  the  wrist,  and  knew  that  he  was  spotted  every- 
where. He  was  splashed  with  mud,  bruised,  wrenched,  thirsty, 
and  abandoned  ;  unacquainted  with  any  family  in  Washington  ex- 
cept Mrs.  Surratt's,  and  he  had  no  hat  to  wear,  so  that  it  would  be 
suspicious  for  him  to  walk  abroad,  and  had  no  money  to  equip  or 
move  himself. 

He  lay  there  all  night  without  blanket  or  overcoat,  chilly  and 
miserable.  It  occurred  to  him  to  attack  and  kill  any  man  who  might 
approach,  but  the  next  day  the  cemetery  was  deserted,  as  the  murder 
had  called  everj^body  in  marveling  groups  to  the  city. 

He  lay  still  all  day  Saturday,  and  on  Easter-Sunday,  when  Christ 
arose,  a  funeral  came  near  him,  and  a  person  dropped  a  newspaper, 
which  Payne  reached  out  and  took,  after  all  were  gone.  Near  it  lay 
a  pick  for  digging  graves,  and  this  also  he  drew  within  the  vault. 

The  paper  contained  a  proclamation  from  the  stern  yet  tender 
Secretary  of  War,  saying  : 

"  One  hundred  thousand  dollars  reward  ! 

"  The  murderer  of  our  late  beloved  President,  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, is  still  at  large  ! 

"  Fifty  thousand  dollars  will  be  paid  by  this  department  for  his 
apprehension. 

"Twenty-five  thousand  dollars  reward  for  A.  Atzerodt,  some- 
times called  '  Port  Tobacco.' 

"  Twenty-five  thousand  dollars  reward  for  David  E.  Herold. 

"  All  persons  harboring  or  secreting  the  said  persons,  or  either  of 
them,  or  aiding  or  assisting  their  concealment  or  escape,  will  be 
treated  as  accomplices,  subject  to  trial  before  a  military  commission 
and  the  punishment  of  death. 

"  Let  the  stain  of  innocent  blood  be  removed  from  the  land  ! " 


PAYNE.  521 

As  Payne  read  this  with  horror,  he  observed  that  his  own  name 
was  not  printed,  probably  not  known,  and  that  none  of  his  victims 
were  dead.  In  a  revulsion  of  gratitude  and  tears,  he  fell  upon  his 
face  in  the  stone  vault,  and  said  a  prayer  his  Baptist  father  had 
taught  him. 

The  fourth  night  following  the  crime  fell  upon  the  old  graveyard 
and  the  monuments  of  senators,  vice-presidents,  state  ministers,  and 
jurists.  Payne,  nearly  dead  with  hunger,  crawled  forth  that  drizzling, 
chilly,  Monday  night  among  the  low  cedar-trees  to  execute  the  only 
device  he  could  mature  :  to  visit  Mrs.  Surratt,  with  the  pick  upon  his 
shoulder  and  in  the  guise  of  a  sewer-digger,  and  obtain  a  hat  and 
clothes  and  money. 

He  left  the  cemetery  after  ten  o'clock,  and  came  over  Capitol 
Hill,  avoiding  the  Avenue,  and,  ascending  the  widow's  high  wooden 
steps,  he  rang  the  hall-bell.  In  a  moment  the  door  opened  with  a 
quick  twist,  and  an  alert  and  searching-eyed  man  confronted  the 
stai-ving  wretch,  but  not  before  Payne  had  walked  right  into  the 
hall  pursuant  to  his  plan  and  from  his  fears.  The  man  shut  the 
door  behind  him,  and  locked  it. 

"  I  guess  I  am  mistaken,"  faltered  Payne. 

"  Whom  do  you  want  to  see  .''  " 

"  Mrs.  Surratt." 

"  This  is  right ;  w^alk  in  !  " 

The  Nemesis  that  punishes  by  man's  delays  had  brought  the 
assassin  to  the  headquarters  of  the  band  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  family  there  were  being  arrested.  Payne  was  taken  before  them, 
all  surrounded  by  their  personal  effects,  and  waiting  for  a  carriage. 
His  prevarications  had  aroused  the  officer's  suspicions,  and  a  cocked 
pistol  was  held  at  his  body,  and  he  was  made  to  lay  the  pick  down. 

Mrs.  Surratt  had  just  requested  permission  to  fall  on  her  knees 
and  pray.  As  she  arose,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  the  officer 
said  : 

"  Mrs.  Surratt,  do  you  know  this  man  }  " 

She  looked,  and  saw  the  man,  above  all  others,  she  had  most  to 
fear. 

Raising  her  hands,  fresh  from  making  the  holy  sign,  the  WTetched 
woman  swore  : 

"  Before  God,  sir,  I  do  not  know  this  man— I  never  saw  him 
before  ! " 

Yet  he  had  been  her  guest,  had  sat  in  the  very  box  where  the 


522 


KATY  OF  C A  TO  C  TIN. 


murder  was  to  be  done,  with  her  son  and  famil3%  and  had  been 
secreted  in  the  hotel  in  the  theatre-block  by  her  request. 

The  circle  of  the  crime  was  now  completely  closed.  On  Payne's 
feet  were  Booth's  boots,  marked  with  his  initials  ;  Payne's  horse  was 
afterward  identified  as  purchased  by  Booth  in  Dr.  Mudd's  presence, 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  latter's  house.  In  Booth's  vest  at  the 
hotel  had  been  found — with  the  handcuffs  befitting  a  slave-buyer, 
but  intended  to  bind  the  martyr  President's  hands — the  card  of 
Mrs.  Surratt's  son.  And  Mrs.  Surratt's  daughter  bore  unwilling 
testimony  that  Payne  had  lodged  in  her  brother's  bed. 

The  photographs  of  insurgent  chiefs  in  the  house,  a  card  with 
"  Sic  semper  tyrannis!"  upon  it,  the  testimony  of  the  family  and 
boarders,  and  the  flight  of  the  son  back  to  Canada,  indicated  too 
well  the  character  of  the  house,  and  the  most  responsible  person 
there  :  the  only  one  with  claims  to  religion  and  family  ties  was  this 
spiteful-hearted  woman,  on  whom  the  heavy  hand  of  the  state  had 
fallen  when  the  blood  of  its  chief  cried  aloud  that  mercy  to  woman 
had  been  abused. 

A  Baltimore  actor  in  New  York,  to  whom  Booth  had  proposed  to 
take  a  place  at  Ford's  Theatre,  and  there  turn  off  the  gas  while  he 
committed  the  crime,  came  and  testified  ;  and  the  evidence  around 
Spangler,  the  carpenter,  gathered  tight.  O'Laughlin  was  arrested, 
and  Arnolds  letter,  found  in  Booth's  trunk,  incriminated  them  all. 
Arnold  made  a  full  confession,  as  did  Atzerodt,  but  the  Government 
would  admit  neither  as  its  witness.  Vengeance,  postponed  for  years 
on  cowards  and  lurking  spies,  was  to  fall  at  last ! 

Atzerodt  had  spent  a  miserable  night  at  the  stage-tavern  behind 
Booth's  hotel,  and  in  the  morning  he  struck  out  for  the  mountain  coun- 
try, selling  his  pistol  in  Georgetown^  and  he  was  arrested  half-way  to 
the  Catoctin  Valley,  hiding  in  bed,  and  endeavoring  to  disguise  him- 
self in  the  German  dialect — a  thin  disguise,  but  the  only  honest  gar- 
ment he  had  left.  He  immediately  informed  upon  Herold,  whose 
coat,  he  said,  and  bowie-knife  were  to  be  found  in  the  room  at  the 
Kirkwood  Hotel,  where  Atzerodt  came  on  the  morning  of  the  assas- 
sination-day. They  found  there  a  silly  mixing  of  arms,  cartridges, 
spurs,  and  liquorice ;  the  latter  designated  Herold's  tastes  as  an  apoth- 
ecary's boy,  and  Booth's  Montreal  bank-book  was  in  his  pocket. 
The  Government  now  meant  to  promote  Mr.  Herold  to  a  position 
more  worthy  of  his  years,  and  teach  him  dignity  by  elevating  him. 


IN   THE  SHORT  FINES.  523 

The  fact  was  apparent  to  the  Government  that,  next  to  Booth, 
the  active  genius  of  evil  had  been  the  widows  Surratt's  son,  who  paid 
no  more  attention  to  the  obligations  of  his  protection  than  had  Payne, 
who  displayed  at  the  moment  of  his  arrest  the  military  safeguard  and 
solemn  oath  of  amnesty. 

But  this  son  had  been  absent  from  Washington,  on  messenger 
spy-service,  for  three  weeks  prior  to  the  assassination,  and  the  de- 
liberate murder  of  the  President,  Vice-President,  General,  and  min- 
isters had  been  resolved  upon  after  the  son  disappeared  ;  therefore 
some  other  person  in  the  house  of  the  Surratts  would  have  to  bear 
the  responsibility  of  complicity  in  this  later  plot. 

There  was  none  but  Mrs.  Surratt,  and  she  had  been  the  tool  of 
Booth  ;  her  message  to  the  country  tavern  that  day,  her  silence  after 
the  crimes,  her  denying  of  Payne,  and  the  continued  absence  of  her 
son,  as  well  as  the  testimony  concerning  her  violent  talk  for  years, 
led  the  Government  to  conclude  that  she  might  have  been  the  un- 
womaned  spirit  of  the  whole  plot. 

Atzerodt  met  her  at  the  prison,  looking  up  at  her  window,  and 
exclaimed : 

"  '  Te  last  man  was  a  womans.'  Look  tere  !  I  see  my  dreams. 
And  te  black  man  with  te  white  face,  will  hang  us  all !  " 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

IN   THE   SHORT   PINES. 

When  the  assassin  passed  over  the  navy-yard  bridge  from  the 
city  he  gave  his  own  name—"  Booth."  In  his  years  of  premeditating 
some  deep  act  of  treachery  he  had  cultivated  police  officers  and  de- 
tectives, and  observed  that  they  were  governed  by  their  suspicions 
and  always  distrusted  candor.  So,  when  he  had  given  the  name  of 
Booth,  the  earliest  professional  officers  who  arrived  at  the  bridge 
exclaimed:  "This  must  have  been  the  dummy,  to  make  us  a  false 
scent.    The  real  Booth  has  gone  another  way." 

Meantime,  Booth,  leading  Herold  in  the  ride,  spurred  his  racking 
horse  fiercely,  and  they  both  rode  without  mercy  until  they  reached 
Surratt's,  standing  out  against  the  old  fields  and  woods  like  En- 
dymion's  bower  in  the  kiss  of  moonlight. 


524 


KATY   OF   CATOCTIX. 


"  Get  off,"  said  Booth,  "  and  wake  the  man  up  !  I've  got  a  tooth- 
ache in  the  foot.  We  must  find  a  doctor  to  set  this  broken  bone, 
which  moves  and  scrapes." 

Herold,  raised  by  the  exercise  from  his  fears,  went  in  and  shook 
up  the  drunken  landlord,  a  besotted  creature,  who  had  once  been  on 
the  police  force  in  Washington,  but  had  dropped  down  to  keep  this 
low  country  bar.  He  set  the  whisky-bottles  ordered  by  Mrs.  Surratt, 
that  very  sunset,  before  Herold,  who  said,  "  For  God's  sake,  Lloyd, 
go  get  them  things !  "  And,  while  Mr.  Lloyd  was  bringing  down 
one  carbine,  and  the  cartridges  for  it,  and  the  field-glass  the  lady 
had  fetched,  Herold  gave  Booth,  sitting  on  his  goaded  roan,  a  bot- 
tle of  whisky.  He  was  already  drunk,*  but  drank  more  than  half 
the  bottle,  and  sat  on  his  horse  between  sleepiness  and  recklessness, 
now  stiff,  now  swaying.  He  boasted  aloud  of  murdering  the  Presi- 
dent himself,  and  of  having  killed  Mr.  Seward,  at  least,  of  the  Cabi- 
net ;  and  nothing  of  this  import  affected  the  landlord  at  all,  who 
had,  in  six  months,  heard  so  many  atrocious  hopes  and  wishes  ex- 
pressed there  against  the  public  authorities  that  he  rather  congrat- 
ulated the  assassins. 

*'  I  can't  take  my  carbine,"  said  Booth  ;  "  I  can't  manage  it  with 
this  leg.     Where  is  the  nearest  doctor  ?  " 

"  There's  a  ole  Doctaw  Hoxton  nigh  by,  but  he  won't  practice 
no  mo'.  You  must  git  down  Beantown  way,  to  find  any  doctaw  to- 
night. There's  Doctaw  Mudd  !  Don't  you  want  t'other  carbine, 
and  the  rope  and  wrench  ?  "    . 

"  No.  We  want  a  splint  and  a  crutch.  Put  down  that  carbine, 
Dave ! " 

"John,  I  can't  do  without  my  gun,"  replied  Herold.  "  I  reckon 
Payne  and  Atzerodt  ain't  a-coming." 

"  Dr.  Mudd's  the  man,"  exclaimed  Booth,  spurring  the  roan 
horse  Herold  had  watered,  and  the  soft  road  gave  the  sucking 
sounds — 

*'  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a  !  " 

The  next  day,  when  a  parcel  of  officers  reached  Surratt's  tavern, 
some  of  them  friendly  in  former  years  with  Mr.  Lloyd,  he  affected 
not  to  have  seen  anybody  that  night,  and  gave  them  the  wrong  hint 
for  pursuit ;  yet  in  their  company  was  the  young  boarder  who  had 

*  Lloyd's  testimony  in  the  Surratt  trial:  "The  man  talked  as  if  he  was 
drunk  ;  he  was  drunk,  in  fact." 


IN   THE   SHORT  PINES. 


525 


driven  Mrs.  Surratt  there,  and  had  seen  her  privately  speak  to  this, 
her  tenant,  and  in  the  tavern  was  even  now  the  remaining  carbine 
and  the  rope  designed  to  bind  Mr.  Lincoln.  In  a  few  days  more, 
when  things  were  looking  serious,  Mr.  Lloyd  told  the  truth,  and  the 
son's  coil  of  rope  became  the  deserted  mother's  punishment. 

Thousands  of  times  in  that  tavern  had  it  been  wished  aloud  that 
"  somebody  would  kill  Abe  Lincoln,"  and  these  curses  were  flying 
home  to  roost. 

The  night-ride  on  that  lonely  road  was  marked  by  neither  coher- 
ent talk  nor  thinking,  liquor  having  imbruted  both  the  fugitives,  and 
Herold  gave  forth  some  drug-store  knowledge  about  remedies  for 
fractures  and  bone-feverS,  and  Booth  indulged  in  some  jargonry 
about  tyrants  and  fate. 

Before  daylight  the  house  of  Dr.  Mudd,  remote  from  the  high- 
road, was  entered  by  this  pair,  who  had  probably  intended,  but  for 
the  fracture  of  the  leg,  to  leave  his  house  to  the  east,  although  this 
was  not  certain  to  themselves,  for  it  was  a  convenient  breakfast- 
place  for  them,  and  on  a  more  retired  route  to  Pope's  Creek. 

At  the  first  announcement  of  their  deed  and  errand,  Mudd  was 
rather  rejoiced,  but,  as  the  day  wore  on,  he  took  the  reflections  in- 
cident to  his  weak  moral  quality,  became  afraid  of  his  negroes,  and, 
after  he  had  completed  a  crutch  for  Booth,  Dr.  Mudd  and  Herold 
started  out  to  see  if  Bryantown  had  heard  the  news,  leaving  Booth 
to  doze  off  his  liquor  and  pain. 

As  Herold  came  to  a  brook  within  sight  of  Brj^antown  hollow, 
he  observed  blue-coated  soldiers  in  the  public  roads  of  that  hamlet, 
and  shrank  back  mto  the  brush,  while  Mudd  went  on,  and  learned 
at  the  store  and  tavern  confirmation  of  the  assassin's  tales,  that  the 
ruler  and  his  chief  secretary  had  been  killed.  Proclamations  were 
being  put  up,  and  Mudd  saw  the  terrible  situation  he  was  in,  as  a 
harborer  of  outlaws  and  the  first  convert  in  that  whole  country  to 
Booth's  mad  theatrical  schemes,  of  abducting  the  man  since  killed  ; 
the  introducer  of  Booth  to  Surratt,  and  known  to  every  resident  of 
that  district  to  have  been  visited  by  Booth  in  the  previous  fall. 

He  saw  the  floating  vultures  over  the  heights  about  Bryantown 
church,  with  a  pathetic  sense  of  being  the  next  carcass,  perhaps,  to 
draw  them  to  the  ground.  There  was  his  cousin  and  medical  pre- 
ceptor in  the  village,  to  whom  he  had  long  been  inimical  as  the  soli- 
tary Union  white  man  there.     How  strong  and  clear  that  kinsman 


526  KATY   OF  CATOCTIN. 

seemed  to-day  in  the  eyes  of  the  restless  man  who  wanted,  above 
all  things  in  this  world,  an  honorable  and  loyal  adviser  now — one 
who  had  kept  his  heart  generous  and  faithful  to  the  dead  ruler !  The 
towns-people  had  not  yet  got  the  idea  of  Booth  as  the  assassin,  and 
considered  that  word — pronounced  among  the  negroes  "  Booze  " — 
to  probably  apply  to  a  local  assassin  named  Boyle,  who  had  some 
time  before  killed  a  provost-marshal. 

Mudd  hastened  home  to  urge  his  visitors  to  depart,  and,  enter- 
ing his  main  room,  saw  the  desperate  man  asleep,  snatching  at 
sighs  in  his  bandit  dreams,  and  pistol,  knife,  and  carbine  in  his 
reach.  He  had  shaved  off  his  mustache.  Mudd  thought  of 
Lloyd  Quantrell's  warning,  bitterly :  "  Take  care  you  don't  enter- 
tain, some  time,  a  man  less  candid  than  I  am,  and  who  may  come 
into  this  room,  unless  you  guard  it  with  a  humble  spirit !  "  He 
pressed  Herold  to  play  on  Booth's  fears,  and  they  were  mounted  at 
early  dusk.  Booth  being  in  dreadful  pain  and  lifted  upon  his  horse. 
Martial  law  had  been  declared  at  Bryantovvn. 

"Where  next  were  these  two  vagrants  to  go  ? 

Unerringly  along  the  returning  thread  of  that  dark  spy  and 
secret  mail  system,  which  had  been  maintained  since  the  war  began 
for  universal  slavery. 

The  chief  post  station  on  it  between  Mudd's  and  the  river  was 
Captain  Sam  Cox's,  almost  twenty  miles  away,  by  the  roundabout 
road  to  avoid  Bryantown  and  the  soldiery.  A  negro  was  paid  to 
guide  them  there,  and  they  arrived  at  Cox's  near  Saturday  mid- 
night. 

Sorrow  had  struck  the  household  of  this  earliest  taker-up  of  the 
sword.  His  adopted  son  had  returned  from  Richmond,  with  the 
news  of  another  nephew's  death  ;  and  barely  had  the  news  of 
President  Lincoln's  taking-off  been  received,  when  here  were  the 
assassin  and  his  pilot,  both  probably  known  to  Cox,  and  Herold  cer- 
tainly known  to  him — for  Herold,  as  has  been  said,  had  gone  to  a 
school  near  by — and  he  now  came  in  and  awakened  the  family,  while 
Booth  sat  on  his  horse  in  an  outer  barn-yard,  awaiting  a  reply. 

Captain  Cox  we  have  already  had  a  glimpse  of  at  Port  Tobacco, 
drilling  his  company  at  the  outset  of  the  war.  A  ringleader,  with 
the  force  of  a  consumptive,  he  had  done  his  best  for  the  insurgents 
and  lost  the  stake ;  and  now  that  he  was  ready  to  meet  the  new 
situation  and  strengthen  his  considerable  property  by  free  applica- 
tion, the  hidden  paths  of  his  record  were  traced  backward,  by  this 


IN   THE   SHORT  FINES. 


527 


insensate  theatrical  fool,  mimicking  war,  until,  like  the  barber 
monkey  in  the  tragedy,  Booth  had  cut  an  innocent  throat. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  get  the  men  away :  Herold  was 
directed  to  send  off  the  negro  and  to  hide  Booth,  and  be  his  guard 
in  a  thicket  of  nearly  impenetrable  short  pines  about  a  mile  from 
Cox's  house  and  four  or  five  miles  from  the  Potomac,  and  Cox  was 
to  have  them  fed  until  his  henchman,  Jones,  could  slip  them  over 
the  river. 

In  the  drizzling  night  of  that  open  spring,  the  dawn  of  Easter- 
Sunday  and  the  arisen  Saviour,  the  gratuitous  murderer  entered  the 
pine-thicket,  not  to  arise  from  the  ground  for  six  nights  and  days. 
An  overseer,  a  white  man,  was  sent  to  bed  them,  and  on  Sunday, 
Jones,  the  Charon  who  long  had  kept  the  ferry  to  the  Confederacy, 
was  directed  to  seek  them  out. 

Every  hour  made  the  situation  of  all  who  harbored  them  more 
perilous,  as  every  new  development  more  firmly  located  the  con- 
spiracy in  this  peninsula  of  swamp-bottom  hill  and  wilderness.  The 
Government,  misled  by  Dr.  Mudd,  began  to  beat  up  the  swamps, 
though  the  pines  had  always  been  the  hiding-places  of  go-be- 
tweens ;  and  from  their  covert,  where  the  little  tree-stems  were  so 
close  that  sunlight  could  not  pierce  to  the  earth.  Booth  and  Her- 
old heard  the  scouting  cavalry  tread  past  on  the  roads  with  jing- 
ling sabers  and  bridles  and  neighing  animals.  Said  Booth  to  Her- 
old, "  They  can  also  hear  our  horses  if  they  can  not  see  them." 

When  Jones  came  in  on  Sunday  morning,  he  found  Booth's  bay 
mare  loose  in  the  more  open  woods,  nibbling,  with  the  saddle  upon 
her.  He  whistled,  according  to  a  signal  conveyed  to  him  by  Cox's 
nephew,  and  was  met  by  Herold  with  the  cocked  carbine,  mount- 
ing guard  like  a  little  sneak  spaniel,  barking  watch. 

Booth  lay  on  the  ground,  pale,  with  his  foot  tied  and  supported, 
and  blankets  around  him.  His  broken  fibula  now  exclaimed 
against  his  pride  of  strength,  and  like  a  needle  in  the  bone  sewed 
and  sewed  hito  his  flesh  and  nerves,  as  if  the  heart  was  the  thimble 
to  drive  it  with  every  industrious  pulsation.  He  felt  the  nimble  en- 
terprise of  this  heart  as  it  rose  and  returned  to  the  seamstress  task, 
while,  at  times,  it  seemed  that  the  sewing-spirit  with  one  hand 
lifted  his  flesh  up  like  a  fabric  from  the  floor  and  threw  it  against 
the  shuttle ;  and  then  the  long,  quivering  shaft  of  bone  drew  a 
groan  of  agony,  as  it  seemed  to  pull  a  strand  of  lockjaw  through 
the  being  of  the  wretch. 


528 


KATY   OF  CA  roc  TIN. 


"Oh,  a  doctor!  Can't  I  have  a  doctor?"  exclaimed  Booth  to 
Jones. 

"  No,  my  young  friend.  Not  a  doctor  in  the  country  dare  come 
to  you.  We  can't  trust  anybody,  and  our  own  lives  depend  on  get- 
ting you  away  from  us.  The  best  we  can  do  for  you  is  to  feed  you, 
and,  if  we  can,  to  send  you  to  Virginia.  Every  negro  in  the  land 
is  wailing  for  Lincoln  and  watching  us.  Your  horses  must  be 
killed,  or  they  will  betray  you  ;  nobody  dares  keep  them,  as  they 
will  both  be  advertised  by  age,  size,  and  spot.  There  is  no  doubt,  I 
reckon,  about  your  being  Booth  .'*  " 

Jones  was  an  old,  cool  river-scout,  whose  face  concealed  in 
mournful  Maryland  lines  the  amiable  craft  and  fortitude  of  a  Uaniel 
Boone.  He  was  uneducated,  and  had  been  raised  with  Captain 
Cox  as  the  poor  boy  companion. 

Booth  raised  his  hand  at  this  query  and  showed  the  initials  "  J. 
W.  B."  pricked  into  his  wrist  in  boyhood. 

"  I  want  a  doctor.  I  want  to  get  to  Virginia,  where  I  can  have  a 
doctor.     And  I  want  the  newspapers  !  " 

Jones  left  them  common  negro  and  country  fare,  and  next  day 
brought  the  papers  of  Baltimore  and  Washington.  The  whole 
land  was  mourning  for  the  President,  and  the  assassin  found  that 
every  Southern  and  conservative  interest  sought  to  repudiate  him. 

He  now  appreciated,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  discipline.  His 
crime  he  did  not  regret,  but  the  world  seemed  to  have  become  un- 
grateful. How  had  men  lost  pride  in  him  who  only  had  treasured 
up  and  executed  their  threats  and  hates  of  years !  Did  they  not 
see  his  courage,  devotion,  and  stratagem  ? 

Alas !  he  who  is  the  executioner  of  base  and  frivolous  popular 
resentments,  only  realizes  for  himself  their  infamy,  being  instantly 
deserted  by  his  instigators ;  for  no  man  thinks  any  man  is  wicked 
enough  to  wreak  in  cruelty  the  passing  political  intentions  of  the 
heart.  But  women  and  non-combatants  will  be  politicians,  and,  as 
they  talk,  some  men  will  do. 

Booth  read  the  papers  every  day,  as  once  and  only  once  in  the 
day  his  humble  steward  came  with  the  meat  and  brought  them. 

"  Dave,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  I  feel,  some  way,  as  if  I  was 
a  fugitive  slave,  like  one  of  them  John  Brown  had,  who  had  got 
away,  and  only  one  poor  man  had  the  humanity  to  feed  him  }  " 

But  his  heart  sank  deeper  after  this  suggestion,  when  he  thought 
how  he  had  gloated  for  nearly  six  years  upon  his  implacability  to 


IN   THE   SHORT  PINES. 


529 


any  abolitionist ;  and  here  he  wanted  life  and  freedom,  the  dearer  to 
him  every  hour. 

No  relief  the  papers  gave — some  of  them  the  very  papers  vs'hich 
had  assisted  to  mold  and  arm  his  mind  for  murder ;  papers  which 
had  represented  the  war  for  the  Union  of  the  country  as  tyranny 
and  malice,  and  were  edited  by  renegade  or  mercenary  or  unspirit- 
ual  men,  to  lead  communities  deeper  and  deeper  into  suUenness 
and  self-abasement.  And  now  they  named  him,  the  Junius  Brutus 
Booth  of  the  age  and  famous  Tarquin-killer,  a  crazy  man  and  a 
drunkard,  and,  what  was  still  worse,  said  he  was  a  circus-jumper, 
and  never  could  act ! 

At  this  he  would  have  started  up  and  killed  somebody,  but  only 
his  wounded  ankle  felt  the  bone  take  a  great  hem  in  it,  and  his  heart 
pushed  the  bone-needle  in,  and  with  the  chill  sweat  of  anguish  on 
his  pale  and  working  face  he  said  over,  to  drown  the  pain,  the  words 
he  had  often  recited  to  others  from  Tom  Hood : 

"  Stitch — stitch— stitch, 
In  poverty,  hunger,  and  dirt, 
Sewing  at  once,  with  a  double  thread, 
A  shroud,  as  well  as  a  shirt !  " 

He  must  needs  run  on  to  the  next  stanza  a  little  and  say: 

"  But  why  do  I  talk  of  death. 
That  phantom  of  grisly  bone  ? 
I  hardly  fear  his  terrible  shape, 
It  seems  so  like  my  own — 
It  seems  so  like  my  own 
Because  of  the  fasts  I  keep  ; 
O  God,  that  bread  should  be  so  dear, 
And  flesh  and  blood  so  cheap  ! " 

'*  Who  ever  thought  that  any  man  would  live  to  remember  that 
'  Song  of  the  Shirt '  in  the  middle  of  these  gloomy  little  pines,  or 
that  death  should  grow  visible  to  me  on  the  end  of  my  favorite 
rhyme  ?  My  foot,  that  I  was  so  proud  of,  turned  traitor  to  my  per- 
formance, and  now  even  my  recitations  bring  ghosts  to  me." 

He  threw  himself  out  of  position,  and  nearly  howled  with  pain, 
to  hear  at  a  distance  the  firing  of  a  pistol  or  carbine.  It  was  the 
horses  Herold  was  killing  in  a  ravine  of  Zekiah  Swamp. 

These  animals,  no  more  than  the  theatre  where  Lincoln  died, 
23 


530 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


would  ever  again  be  used  for  men's  low  purposes.  The  great  ge- 
nius of  war,  Secretar)'  Stanton,  notified  the  Baltimore  showmen  who 
would  have  opened  the  theatre  while  yet  it  might  "  draw,"  like  a 
museum  of  horrors,  that  they  never  should  prostitute  the  blood  of 
Lincoln ;  and  to  this  day  its  walls  contain  the  curious  wounds  and 
operations  of  the  war,  out  of  whose  great  opera  of  groans  and  agony 
this  tender  air  of  healing  mercy  and  science  still  lulls  the  place  where 
the  emancipator  died. 

The  horses  had  been  led  down  a  narrow  gully,  deepening  as  it 
was  descended  from  the  pine  summits  to  an  arm  of  the  great  Zekiah 
Swamp,  until  the  sky  above  seemed  far  withdrawn  and  the  smell 
of  decay,  some  said,  was  absorbed  by  the  rank  vegetation  and  the 
shell-Hme  in  the  cliffs.  There,  if  the  wandering  buzzards  did  feast 
upon  the  flesh  of  those  steeds  which  Herold  shot,  they  did  so  un- 
discovered, like  familiars  in  the  Inquisition,  and  picked  white  the 
humble  and  unoffending  bones ;  and  in  the  legends  of  that  country 
the  slain  animals  alone  are  thought  to  have  had  souls  and  were  rid- 
den by  the  brutes.  Hannah  Ritner's  racking  steed  the  negro  hears, 
as  he  waits  at  Cox's  Station — where  the  railroad  has  rifted  the  little 
pines,  like  a  beam  of  education  from  the  moon — go  past  on  Good- 
Friday  and  on  Easter  nights,  sounding — 

"  Tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a,  tick-a-tock-a !  " 

So  does  the  flight  of  old  barbarisms  continue,  in  the  remem- 
brance of  martyrs'  days  and  deaths  and  benefactions. 

Day  came  and  night  spread  round  its  solemn  gloom,  all  divine 
with  infinite  life  of  waking  insects,  and  in  the  mornings  sang  the 
mysterious  birds,  each  with  its  secret  and  its  praise,  its  living  pur- 
pose and  its  joy  of  species.-  There  was  a  red  bird  over  Booth's 
head,  with  a  single  note  Hke  a  melted  berry  or  cherry,  so  lush  and 
full,  like  "  Cheery !  cheery !  cheery  ! "  and  saying  it  impatiently,  like 
a  bride  to  be  kissed  again  and  again. 

Another  little  bird,  like  a  ball  of  wool  with  a  bit  of  beak  in  it,  and 
on  a  little  twig — some  of  the  wren  or  sparrow  tribe,  perhaps — 
whistled : 

"  Coo-choo — chilly-chilly  ! " 

House-martins  came  near,  but  flew  away  again,  and  one  bird 
cried,  "  Hoo-e !  hoo-e !  "  and  then  softly  added,  "  Hooch  !  hooch ! " 

Far  overhead,  like  the  police  upon  false  scents,  the  crows  or 
rooks  went  straight  in  pairs  only,  the  bird  ahead  crying,  "  Hack  ! 
hack ! " — the  following  bird  adding  "  Hock ! " 


IN    THE   SHORT  PINES. 


531 


All  these  sounds  the  actor  heard,  wondering  how  Nature  could 
take  her  outlawry  with  such  joy  ;  and  the  cocks  and  turkey-gobblers 
in  farms  of  unknown  location  crowed  and  clucked,  like  the  sounds 
of  a  world  drifting  away  in  Noah's  ark. 

When  the  sun  rose  at  morning,  all  the  tree-tops  seemed  to  steal 
toward  blossoming,  and  the  moon  remained  with  its  inner  lamp 
gone  out,  like  love  repulsed  yet  duteous.  No  tree  could  the  assas- 
sin see  but  the  little  pines,  though  Herold,  who  could  walk,  and 
strayed  away  a  little,  reported  that  he  had  seen  prickly  pears  or 
cactus  growing  in  the  marl  sand,  and  that  the  swamps  were  full  of 
maples  already  budding  red,  of  fox-grape  vines  like  the  cables  of 
great,  unseen  ships,  and  birch  and  beech,  oak,  poplar,  and  sycamore ; 
while  on  the  upland,  in  the  stiff  white  soil  or  gray  clay,  among  the 
red  and  white  oaks  grew  the  green  holly,  deep,  cool  cedar,  and 
liberty-loving  pine.* 

Booth  had  to  threaten  Herold  that  if  he  ever  forgot  their  mutual 
danger,  and  shot  at  a  bird  or  wild  animal,  he  would  kill  him  ;  for 
Herold  was  continually  gunning  in  his  mind,  and  the  highest  flight 
Booth  could  take  in  bathos  or  invective  never  carried  Herold 
above  "  pa'tridges."  Sometimes,  when  Booth's  mind  was  full  of 
grisly  things,  and  the  chill  of  horror  dampened  his  brow,  he  would 
hear  the  boy  near  by  whistling  "  Bob  White,  Bob  White,"  softly, 
and  looking  with  his  shy  blue  eyes  at  his  carbine,  like  a  child 
denied  the  shooting  of  its  gun  on  Christmas  Sunday.  When  Booth 
talked  about  eagles  and  Caesar,  Herold  told  a  story  of  losing  a 
canvas-back  duck  and  being  kicked  over  by  his  shot-gun. 

"Ah,  Dave,"  said  Booth,  "you  are  Nimrod,  a  mighty  hunter 
before  the  Lord." 

Before  the  Lord  !  The  idea  remained  in  Booth's  mind.  Why 
any  hunter  before  the  Lord  ?  Brought  before  the  Lord  for  killing  ? 
Or  killing  where  the  Lord  would  save  ?  What  did  it  mean  ?  And 
must  the  mighty  all  stand  before  the  Lord  1 

Up  to  this  time  Booth's  title  for  preachers  had  been  "  Bible- 
thumpers,"  t  and  he  despised  religious  reflections ;  but  he  began  to 
fear  his  mind  might  run  that  way.  He  grew  tired  of  the  news- 
papers, as  they  all  stamped  upon  his  name  and  act.     He  read  of 

*  The  author  made  this  study  April  15,  1S84,  at  Cox's  Station,  on  the  site 
of  Booth's  concealment. 

+  John  Matthews,  actor ;  story  related  by  him  of  Booth. 


532  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

the  arrest  of  his  eldest  brother,  "June,"  for  having-  been  the  cus- 
todian of  his  abduction  secret ;  of  Payne's  capture  ;  Mrs.  Surratt's 
arrest ;  Arnold,  O'Laughlin,  and  Atzerodt  hunted  down  ;  and  of  his 
own  trunk  found  with  a  colonel's  military  dress-coat  in  it  and  two 
pairs  of  handcuffs. 

Ah !  the  illustrious  man  he  had  sentenced  to  wear  those 
shackles,  like  the  last  remaining  slave,  was  now  the  theme  of 
poetry  and  eulogy  everywhere,  while  Booth's  labored  confession 
never  appeared,  and  no  man  spoke  for  him. 

For  two  days  and  nights  he  anticipated  some  visitation  from  his 
victim's  spirit,  like  the  dead  Caesar  entering  the  tent  of  Brutus  ;  but 
it  did  not  come.  The  third  night,  when  all  mental  anxiety  seemed 
allayed,  and  his  mind  was  dozing,  the  President  and  he  sat  quietly 
reciting  Shakespeare  together  in  the  woods.  Again  the  tall,  loving 
man  called  him  "  my  eloquent  young  friend,"  and  challenged  him  to 
follow,  passage  by  passage,  from  the  bard  of  Avon.  Again  he  gave 
the  speech  of  Antony,  and  the  President  replied  from  Imogen,  and 
led  the  way  down  all  the  plays,  to  Robert  Burns,  at  last. 

Booth  wondered  he  did  not  speak  of  being  killed,  and  make 
some  accusation,  and  finally  expressed  an  apology,  more  rhetorical 
than  repentant,  to  the  President's  face. 

"  Don't  mind  it,"  said  the  President;  "we  lived  in  a  period  of 
misunderstanding.  I  got  well  and  came  to  see  you,  thinking  you 
wanted  a  little  company.     Good-night,  Johnny  !  " 

As  he  took  the  President's  offered  hand,  it  was  so  cold  that  he 
awoke,  shouting,  in  the  midnight  chilliness  of  the  pines. 

"  I've  seen  it !  "  he  faltered  to  Herold,  who  had  waked  and  was 
wondering. 

"  A  pa'tridge,"  asked  Herold,  "  or  a  fox  ?  " 

"  That  long-lived  fox,  Dave— Abe  Lincoln.  Don't  sleep  !  Come, 
talk  awhile  ! " 

And  then  the  ankle  began  to  knead  with  itching  and  shooting 
pains,  the  heart  to  do  needlework  with  the  bone,  the  quilting-party 
to  start,  and  the  hot  fever  sizz  in  the  night's  rainless  drizzle. 

Night  after  night  he  sat  in  the  woods  with  Lincoln,  hearing  parts 
of  Shakespeare  long  studied  and  forgotten,  and  seeking  to  explain 
matters,  and  only  the  dread  settled  in  his  soul  that  the  victim  would 
soon  go,  and  at  last  would  come  that  cold  hand,  and  Booth  would 
wake  shouting  again. 

It  is  the  going  of  apparitions  and  not  their  coming  that  we  often 


IN   THE   SHORT  PINES.  y  533 

dread ;  they  come  like  life's  own  semblance,  and  they  leave  death's 
desertion  behind  them.  Booth,  left  alone,  was  haunted,  for  nothing 
but  this  spirit  did  him  the  benevolence  of  society. 

Three  ideas  became  the  new  construction  of  his  life  :  To  enter  a 
warm  house  and  feel  a  fire ;  to  get  to  Virginia  and  the  sure  sympa- 
thy and  doctoring  for  him  there ;  and  to  have  the  appreciation  or 
forgiveness  of  his  mother.  Already  the  sun  of  glory  was  set  in  his 
heart,  and  the  world  was  like  an  empty  theatre  when  company, 
lights,  and  audience  are  gone. 

He  sat  in  the  woods  as  in  that  theatre,  seeing  the  dead  man  in 
the  box,  and  he  with  a  broken  leg  transfixed  to  the  stage.  There 
were  but  two  of  them,  guarded  by  the  poor,  boyish  scullion  Herold, 
and  they  must  face  each  other  out. 

"  Oh,  let  me  smell  your  fire,"  he  said  to  Jones,  "  and  drink  my 
coffee  warm  !    These  woods  are  like  a  damp  tomb  to  me." 

When  life  seemed  only  dear  from  its  eternity  and  intensity,  and 
despair  made  a  solid  wall  of  the  pine  poles,  Jones  appeared  in  the 
night  of  Friday,  a  week  following  the  assassination,  and  bade  them 
instantly  depart. 

"  It  is  your  only  chance,"  said  he ;  "  the  cavalry  has  gone  on  a 
false  clew  to  St.  Mary's  Countj^  and  to-morrow  they  will  be  back 
to  beat  up  these  pines." 

He  and  Herold  lifted  Booth  on  Jones's  own  horse,  and  Herold 
led  him,  while  Jones  preceded  to  guide  by  a  whistle  agreed  upon. 

For  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  hours  Booth  had  lain  on  the 
ground  unmoved,  and  his  bones  seemed  now  collected  from  a  vault 
and  put  together  cold.  Yet  he  clutched  his  revolver  as  they  gained 
the  high-road,  on  which  they  had  quite  a  space  to  go  in  impenetra- 
ble darkness ;  for  life  grew  more  precious  as  it  ran  down,  like  the 
final  sands  which  shine  crystal  in  the  hour-glass.  Suffering  the 
death  of  apprehension,  of  bodily  thorns,  and  of  bone-coldness,  Booth 
saw,  at  last,  a  gleam  of  warming  light  in  an  old,  decayed  house. 

"  My  God  !  "  he  said,  "  there's  fire.     Coffee,  too  !    Take  me  in  ! " 

The  weather-beaten  and  poverty-ground  guide  shed  some  tears 
at  the  anguish  in  the  plaint. 

"  No,  friend !  There's  my  negro  in  the  kitchen.  He's  faithful 
to  me,  whatever  I  do.     But  you — " 

He  had  killed  the  freedom-giver,  and  murdered  the  prince  of 
peace ! 

In  the  dripping  fog  of  an  old  pear-tree  Booth  ate  and  drank, 


534 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


sitting  on  the  horse,  and  saw  that  the  last  man  he  knew  in  Maryland 
trembled  to  shove  him  forever  from  her  shores. 

He  paid  for  the  little  boat  he  was  to  take,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
long  gully — his  ready  money  was  nearly  gone — and,  looking  at  a 
little  compass  by  the  aid  of  an  end  of  candle,  he  was  rowed  by  Her- 
old  out  on  the  mysterious  river. 

For  hours  they  pulled  in  currents  and  tides,  the  boat  aleak, 
Booth's  foot  on  blades  of  fire,  conferring,  quarreling,  apologizing, 
cursing,  sighing.  His  scullion  and  pilot  was  becoming  a  tyrant,  the 
thin  veneering  of  Herold's  modesty  wearing  off  in  the  friction  of 
beasts'  life. 

At  morn  they  were  grounded  in  a  marsh  under  a  bluff  of  clay, 
and  Herold  landed,  while  Booth  nodded  over  his  clutched  carbine. 

"  Here  was  Virginia,  thank  God !  "  he  said  again  and  again, 
"and  his  patron  State  would  not  forget  her  champion." 

Herold  returned.  "  We're  lost,"  he  said.  "  This  is  Maryland 
yit — ole  Nanjemoy !     I've  shot  pa'tridges  on  this  farm." 

The  proprietor,  beside  himself  with  dread,  had  sent  Herold  away 
with  food  ;  and  now  all  day  they  hid  among  the  brush  at  the  water's 
marge,  miserable,  impatient,  waiting  for  night  and  another  endeavor. 

The  Sabbath  rose  upon  a  low  strand  with  raveled  banks  of  clay 
and  copse  before,  and  the  Potomac  plashing  under  the  boat. 

"  Virginia  !  "  cried  Herold.  "John,  you're  going  crazy  !  Come, 
hobble  along.  The  gunboats  are  watching  every  rod  of  landing 
now." 

Booth  struggled  up,  carrying  his  cross  beneath  his  arm  in  an  old 
oar  made  by  a  bowie-knife  into  a  crutch,  and  with  imprecations  he 
climbed  the  ruined  land  and  reached  at  last  old  Bryan's  hut — the 
other  Charon,  opposite  Jones  of  Maryland. 

Bryan  lived  with  a  negro  woman,  and  had  no  other  wife,  and 
was  illiterate,  mercenary,  and  suspicious.  He  heard  that  Booth  was 
a  Confederate  officer,  whose  horse  had  thrown  him  and  broken  his 
leg,  but  had  his  doubts.  He  had  horses,  but  no  vehicle,  so  Herold 
sallied  out  to  seek  some  method  of  conveyance  to  the  Rappahannock 
crossing,  half  a  day  distant. 

Beneath  an  oak-tree,  in  the  field  before  Brj^an's  naked  abode. 
Booth  reflected  that  this  was  the  Virginia  of  his  idolatry — this  slave 
of  a  negro  woman  Virginia's  embassy  to  him.  But  the  real  Vir- 
ginians were  not  far  off ;  there  was  consolation  in  that ! 

His  wandering  visions  were  wholly  of  his  mother  now — that  poor 


IN   THE   SHORT  PINES.  535 

exile  from  her  native  land  to  a  home  of  logs  and  dry  clay  woodlands 
like  this.  He  remembered  the  story  of  her  coming  hither,  cheated, 
perhaps,  dogged  by  her  predecessor,  set  in  a  doubtful  light,  yet 
blessed  by  beauteous  children,  and  bound,  as  in  bonds,  by  them,  to 
the  everlasting  banishment  of  a  false  position,  unless  they  should 
bring  honor  out  of  misunderstanding,  and  crown  her  patient  age  with 
their  manly  virtues  and  the  healing  of  charity. 

Had  he  respected  his  mother,  whose  only  hope  was  in  this  gen- 
eration, whose  marriage  had  been  a  dish  of  herbs  served  in  a  thea- 
tre's pewter  silver,  yet  whose  pride  in  her  sons  had  been  all  the  con- 
solations of  religion  ? 

At  slow,  deliberate  pains,  unauthorized,  uncommissioned,  un- 
timely, he  had  done  this  great,  gratuitous  murder,  and  set  the  light 
of  Lincoln's  life  against  the  cottage  where  his  mother  hid,  and  invited 
the  world's  inquisition  and  comparison. 

Yet  even  there,  all  stricken  by  his  crime,  she  seemed  his  mother 
still,  and  pitying  him  who  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head— refused 
by  hearths  and  refusing  the  grave. 

The  President  was  by  his  side,  calling  him  "Johnny,"  and  say- 
ing, "  Never  mind  "  ;  that  it  had  been  an  age  of  misunderstanding, 
and  now  he  was  well  again  ;  and  so  that  strange,  cheerful  man  went 
on  reciting  to  Booth  the  wail  of  King  Edward's  widow  for  her  sons. 
Prince  Arthur's  plaint  to  Hubert,  Jane  Shore's  appeal  for  Christian 
shelter,  Macduff's  despair  at  his  children  slain,  and  Portia's  lines  to 
Mercy.  Again  the  President's  cold  hand  awoke  him,  and  he  cried  : 
"  Mother,  I  thought  it  was  my  country.  I  thought  it  was  for 
the  best ! " 

"John  Booth,"  said  a  voice  of  grave,  sad  pity,  "you  have  set  up 
the  corpse  of  the  Confederate  cause  and  assassinated  it !  Joe  John- 
ston surrendered  to  General  Sherman  last  Tuesday.  There  is  no 
place  to  hide  you  now  this  side  of  Mexico !  " 

Booth  looked  up— an  old,  old  man  he  was,  all  overgrown  with 
ragged  beard,  uncombed  and  dirty,  and  like  a  city  tramp  feeding 
from  the  garbage-barrels,  as  he  hobbles  on  in  faded,  crumpled  rai- 
ment ;  and  so  he  seemed  to  Lloyd  Quantrell,  who  now  gazed  at  him 
in  Virginia. 


536  KATY  OF  CATOCTJN. 


CHAPTER    XLIX. 

THE   RETURN. 

When  Lloyd  Quantrell  said  there  was  no  place  for  Booth  to 
hide,  short  of  Mexico,  he  spoke  from  locality.  Herold  had  found 
Lloyd  on  the  farm  of  Iturbide's  aunt,  and  Iturbide  was  to  become 
Emperor  of  Mexico  if  Maximilian  lived.* 

It  was  to  protect  the  ladies  there  that  Lloyd  went  to  seek  Booth 
and  compromise  himself.  When  he  reached  Booth,  the  woe-worn 
plight  of  that  bravo  touched  his  heart,  and  smothered  the  indigna- 
tions he  meant  to  express.  He  exerted  himself  to  procure  from 
Bryan  horses  to  carry  them  away,  and  he  concealed  their  identity. 
Proclamations  and  descriptions  had  not  been  posted  up  in  this  part 
of  Virginia.  Quantrell,  however,  said  to  Booth  as  the  latter  indulged 
in  some  boasting  on  his  feat : 

•'  They  will  take  you  before  you  get  far.     I  feel  for  you,  John  ! " 

"  I  will  never  be  taken,"  said  Booth,  "to  be  paraded  over  Wash- 
ington. If  the  worst  comes,  I'll  put  a  ball  from  this  through  my 
head  ! " 

He  showed  an  elaborately  mounted  pistol. 

Quantrell  always  believed,  in  the  sequel,  that  Booth  shot  himself. 

When  Mr.  Booth  reached  the  summer  dwelling  of  a  rich  Vir- 
ginian, some  eight  miles  distant,  that  evening,  it  was  lighted  and 
merry  for  the  close  of  war  and 'the  return  of  soldier  friends ;  but  the 
proprietor  had  adopted  a  rule  to  entertain  no  spies  or  suspicious  per- 
sons, and  the  assassin  and  his  uninteresting  friend  had  to  sleep  in  a 
colored  woman's  cabin  on  the  farm.  Cut  to  the  heart,  and  hereafter 
dropping  Virginia  and  gratitude  from  his  mind.  Booth  wrote  next 
morning  to  the  proprietor : 

"  I  have  some  little  pride.  I  can  not  blame  you  for  want  of  hos- 
pitality.    You  know  your  own  affairs.     I  was  sick,  tired,  with  a 

*  At  the  moment  in  the  text  the  clerical  Emperor,  Maximilian,  had  adopted 
young  Iturbide,  whose  father  had  married  Miss  Green,  of  Georgetown,  D.  C. 
Her  sister,  Mrs.  Quesenberry,  lived  on  the  farm  near  Booth's  landing-place.  In 
two  years  more,  Mr.  Seward,  reviving  from  his  wound,  was  to  see  that  govern- 
ment "by  the  people  and  for  the  people  "  did  not  perish  even  from  Mexico.  In 
spite  of  the  appeals  of  our  Government,  Maximilian  was  executed — "  one  of  the 
most  solemn  scenes  ever  witnessed,  save  the  murder  and  burial  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln," says  the  Hapsburger's  law-officer  and  biographer,  Fred  Hall. 


THE  RETURN.  537 

broken  limb,  and  in  need  of  medical  advice.  I  would  not  have 
turned  a  dog  from  my  door  in  such  a  plight.  However,  you  were 
kind  enough  to  give  us  something  to  eat.  .  .  .  '  The  sauce  to  meat 
is  ceremony;  meeting  were  bare  without  it.'  Be  kind  enough  to 
accept  the  inclosed  five  dollars  (although  hard  to  spare)  for  what  I 
have  received."  * 

A  negro  was  hired  to  take  them  in  a  cart  to  Port  Conway,  across 
the  weary  hills  and  hollows— twelve  miles'  journey— where  they 
arrived  early  Monday  morning,  and  some  disbanded  rebel  cavalry 
were  picked  up  by  Herold  and  used  to  procure  Booth  ferriage 
across  the  Rappahannock.  He  rode  on  a  young  officer's  horse  along 
the  skirt  of  old  Port  Royal  town,  and  was  left  at  a  retired  farm- 
house three  miles  south  of  it — a  wretch  without  a  plan,  a  friend,  or 
a  country ! 

Let  man  hereafter  hesitate  who  issues  himself  a  commission, 
creates  himself  a  state,  and  expects  alliances  for  nothing  but  a  crime  ! 

President  Lincoln  died  in  a  plain  room,  opposite  the  theatre,  after 
breathing  unconscious  for  nine  hours,  his  chief  officials  around  him, 
and  his  wife  and  son  in  another  room.  The  bed  was  cheap  and 
humble,  the  prints  horses  and  sheep,  but  the  wise  men  were  there, 
and  the  spirit  he  exhaled  freshened  the  world  and  made  Caesars 
piteous. 

His  death  was  the  woman's  spikenard-ointment  that  perfumed 
his  weary  feet  and  diffused  his  balm  wherever  humanity  had  wounds. 
He  had  been  his  own  precursor,  and  the  faculties  and  moralizers 
felt  ashamed  that  he  had  come,  instead  of  another ;  but  his  wisdom 
put  their  words  to  better  than  shame— to  contrition.  They  said  he 
had  no  model,  but  they  had  not  seen  the  poor ;  for  in  the  clay  of 
which  God  made  men  are  left  many  models  for  Jove  or  Jesus. 

Mr.  Lincoln  was  composite  of  every  humble,  natural,  and  unaf- 
fected feeling ;  one  touch  of  pretension  would  have  slain  him  more 
than  the  assassin's  ball.  He  was  one  of  the  rare  great  men  who 
could  live  without  quarrehng,  envy,  or  even  indignations.  The 
man  who  killed  him  was  replete  with  all  the  virtues  of  the  self-com- 
placent. 

*  Letter  from  Booth  to  Dr.  Stewart,  composed  in  his  diary  found  on  his 
dead  body — the  date  April  23  or  24,  1865.  Booth  had  outlawed  himself,  and 
his  mere  lodging  at  this  man's  house  cost  the  host  captivity  and  gi-eat  mental 
anxiety. 


538  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

Men  reflected  that  the  theatre  and  slavery  put  together  were  the 
combination  in  Herodias  and  in  Nero ;  that  the  purest  reproof  was 
written  on  the  ground,  and  that  spittle  which  cured  the  blind  man 
could  cure  a  blind  age. 

Lincoln's  power  was  in  his  philosophy  :  to  be  gentle  with  infirm- 
ity, like  the  Creator,  and  to  hold  humor  to  be  man's  golden  book  of 
law.  The  piece  he  lost  his  life  to  see  had  seemed  to  the  critics  vulgar 
enough,  yet  it  proved,  in  time,  to  contain  more  humor  than  any  actor 
ever  made,  and  its  subject  was  his  native  land,  however  imperfectly 
described.*  The  great  war  hardened,  but  could  not  construct  this 
man  ;  he  was  made  out  of  the  trials  of  little -causes  and  in  the  com- 
petitions of  popular  politics,  and  his  patience  was  tested  at  every 
point  before  Heaven  would  trust  him  with  its  sword  or  pen.  New 
discoveries  in  morals  he  never  felicitated  himself  upon,  but  found 
perennial  comfort  in  human  nature.  Living  in  a  fiery  transport  of 
human  faith  to  break  away  from  fettering  bondages  of  body  and  of 
mind,  he  succeeded  greatest  because  he  was  richest  in  love  and 
mightiest  in  trust. 

The  farm  of  Jake  Bosler  looked  almost  princely  in  the  spring,  as 
the  masons  and  carpenters  had  improved  and  enlarged  the  buildings, 
and  art  had  arranged  the  grounds  ;  but  the  old  man,  with  his  fair  pos- 
sessions, had  a  hunger  that  neither  wealth  nor  heaven  could  satisfy, 
till,  one  morning,  he  came  down  from  bed,  and  saw  that  strangers 
had  entered  his  house  in  the  night,  taking  advantage  of  a  latch 
never  secured  by  any  bolt. 

A  child  of  fair  hair  and  large  dark  eyes,  like  his  missing  daugh- 
ter's, sat  playing  upon  the  floor. 

"  Why,  bubelly,"  exclaimed  Jake,  stammering,  "  whose  is  te 
baby  ?  " 

"Danpa's,"  lisped  the  child,  arising;  "we's  tum  home." 

"We?"  articulated  Jake;  "I  dinks  I  hear  my  olty.  Is  it  te 
shpook  of  death  ?  " 

He  sank  trembling  into  a  seat  and  stared  at  the  child,  as  if  his 
hour  had  come. 

"  Don't  you  know  Winter,  danpa  }  "  asked  the  child,  coming  up 
and  leaning  on  his  knee. 

"Winter?"  the  old  man  said.     "  It  was  winter  when  my  Katy 

*  "The  American  Cousin"  made,  in  the  subordinate  part  of  Dundreary, 
the  fortune  of  Mr.  Sothern,  who  played  it  till  his  death. 


THE  RETURN. 


539 


went  away.  \\'inter  nefer  has  been  gone  since  then.  It  will  pe 
winter  in  my  heart  till — Bi'm-by." 

Tears  dimmed  his  eyes,  but  through  them  came  a  vision  of  a 
woman  in  the  Dunker  dress  entering  the  door,  and  the  early  sun- 
shine from  the  crest  of  the  Catoctin  Mountain  followed  her  along 
the  floor,  giving  her  the  golden  halo  of  the  martyrs  in  the  Baptist  book. 

"  Fader,"  said  the  apparition,  kneeling  down,  "  I  waited  till  the 
war  was  ended  for  the  father  of  my  boy  to  come  and  put  the  ring 
upon  my  finger.  I  trusted  him,  and  still  will  trust,  and  here,  it  has 
been  predicted  by  the  good  witch,  that  he  will  come  to-day  to  do 
me  right.     May  we  stay  here,  fader.?  " 

She  took  the  boy  into  her  arms,  and  waited  like  one  afraid. 

"  Stay  with  fader  .-*  "  the  old  man  said,  tottering  up,  "  where  can 
you  stay  but  here  ?  I  feel  te  summer  in  my  old  heart,  and  all  my 
prayers  is  answered.  Te  only  ring  I'f  looked  for  is  my  child's  arms 
around  my  neck,  where  Gott  unites  us  and  noting  can  efer  diwide." 

They  were  kneeling,  and  they  entered  into  prayer.  The  old 
man  used  his  native  Dutch,  and  thanked  the  Lord,  not  for  the  gift 
of  honor,  nor  even  purity,  but  for  the  gift  of  child  ;  and  as  he 
prayed,  the  door  being  open,  the  unaccredited  creation  came  in — 
chickens  without  pedigree,  ducks  without  a  family  tree,  the  peacock 
without  other  primogeniture  than  a  spangled  tail,  Guinea-hens  fear- 
ing to  forget  their  name  of  species,  and  conning  over  "  buckwheat- 
buckwheat,"  and  the  capon,  most  indifferent  of  all. 

The  child — also  uncertified  in  the  herd-book  of  mankind — left 
the  prayer,  and  ran  and  raced  among  these,  his  silken  ringlets 
bounding  from  his  shoulders,  and  in  his  large  eyes  the  mountain 
landscapes  seemed  to  stand  reflected  like  Narcissus  in  the  well. 

"  Fader,  forgive  my  ingratitude,"  spoke  Katy,  as  she  and  the  old 
man  walked  forth  upon  the  new  veranda  in  the  soft  spring  air  ;  "  I 
longed  to  see  you,  but  I  did  not  come  for  that :  love  for  his  father 
brought  me  here." 

She  pointed  to  her  boy. 

"  I  know,  my  child,"  said  Jake,  "  how  te  young  must  leave  fader 
and  modder  and  cleaf  to  a  young  man,  and  nater  led  you  away  and 
back  to  home  ag'in.  Te  Lord  be  thanked  for  nater,  dat  makes  te 
lost  sheep  find  home.  But  his  fader  has  peen  a  rebel,  and  Fader 
Abe  is  killed  !  How  can  Luter,  your  bruder — poor  Lincoln  made 
him  a  cheneral  te  day  he  died — meet  te  man  dat  wounded  him  and 
took  his  sister's  goot  name  .-*  " 


r;40  KATY  OF  CATOCTIiY. 

As  they  spoke,  there  was  a  sound  of  hoarse  and  broken  singing 
in  the  road,  and  three  men  approached  the  gate,  staggering  drunk- 
enly,  but  one  of  them  had  music  in  his  windpipe,  though  he  was 
the  drunkest  of  the  three,  and  with  arms  across  the  gate,  sweeping 
the  house  with  his  dazed,  unseeing  eyes,  he  let  the  deep  notes  roar 
to  the  sound  of  an  accordion  he  played  : 

"  My  country  !     'Tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, 
Of  thee  I  sing  ! " 

His  great  stature  and  weight,  unmanageable  against  the  frail  lattice 
gate,  broke  it  down,  and  he  fell  on  his  face  in  Hosier's  lawn,  the  ac- 
cordion flying  from  his  hand  and  breaking  to  pieces. 

His  companions  looked  at  him  with  tipsy  grins,  and  hands  in 
idiotic  flowing  gestures,  and  laughed  a  loud  and  hollow — 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha !  " 

The  mocking  sound  seemed  to  roll  between  the  parallel  mount- 
ains, and  echo  and  echo,  like  the  mourning-guns  from  Harper's 
Ferry. 

"  The  slave-catchers  have  got  my  Lloyd  ! "  shouted  Katy.  "  The 
Logans  have  brought  him  back  !  " 

She  started  down  the  path  with  winged  feet,  pursued  by  her 
boy. 

The  ragged,  ruined,  wind-beaten  man  turned  up  his  dry,  bleared 
eyes  and  muttered : 

"  I'm  for  she  Gover'ment !  I'm  true  blue.  Hurrah  for  she  ole 
flag ! " 

"  O  Lloyd,  my  love,"  cried  Katy,  "  there  is  one  battle  more  that 
you  and  I  must  fight — for  your  poor  soul !  " 

"  My  love,"  the  great  giant  looked  up  and  spoke,  with  humor  in 
his  beggary,  "  we  shelebrated  she  peash  lash  night  at  Harper's 
Ferry.  We  shwore  allegiensh  on  honor  bright.  It'll  be  all  right 
in  she  morning  when  we  go  shee  my  father — God  blesh  him  ! " 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  ha !  "  went  up  the  laughter  of  Lloyd's  retreat- 
ing comrades,  pursued  by  echoes  from  bridge  and  bam  and  dwell- 
ing. 

"  I  am  promised  this  conversion,"  spoke  Katy,  kissing  her  child 
as  she  held  him  in  her  arms,  and  looked  to  the  skies  with  streaming 
eyes  ;  "  God,  who  has  given  me  his  father's  penitence,  will  not 
deny  me  my  husband's  soul !  " 


THE  RETURN.  5^1 

"  Paptize  him  in  te  spring-house  where  we  found  him,"  cried 
Jake  Bosler;  "  he'll  come  to — Bi'm-by." 

With  this,  Jake  poured  on  the  drunkard's  head  cold  water  from 
the  dairy,  and  Katy  rubbed  his  temples  ;  and  while  they  worked  at 
him  in  dread  and  pity,  people  stole  in  the  gate  and  stood  around 
them. 

"  That  is  your  man,"  spoke  one  of  these  at  last.  "  Put  your 
irons  on  him  while  you  can  !     He  is  strong  and  dangerous." 

As  Katy  saw  bracelets  with  chains  slipped  over  her  lover's 
wrists,  she  screamed  and  leaped  from  the  ground. 

Strange  men  were  standing  there,  and,  shrinking  in  their  rear, 
was  Hugh  Fenwick. 

The  cold  water  and  the  woman's  scream  brought  Ouantrell,  also, 
to  his  senses,  and  he  stood  up  in  his  rags,  and  looked  at  his  hands 
thus  manacled,  and  asked  : 

"  What's  this  }     1  took  the  parole  !  " 

"  We  arrest  you,"  said  one  of  the  strangers,  pistol  in  hand,  "  as 
one  of  the  assassins  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  you  are  wanted  in 
Washington." 

"  My  God  !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd  ;  "  who  has  suspected  me  of  such 
a  crime  as  that  }  " 

"Mr.  Fenwick,  here,  saw  you  in  W^ashington  the  day  of  the 
murder.  Your  name  was  given  at  the  bridge.  You  met  Booth  in 
Br>'antown  last  fall,  and  met  him  again  last  Sunday  in  Virginia. 
You  made  an  oath  with  him  and  Beall,  the  pirate,  to  be  revenged 
on  the  Government." 

"  Take  hold  of  him,"  cried  Fenwick,  edging  away.  "  See  how 
he  looks  at  me  !  " 

"  If  I  am  guilty  of  this  crime,"  spoke  Ouantrell,  humbly.  "  I 
shall  not  ask  to  live.  If  I  am  innocent,  I  will  rid  the  world  of  that 
man  who  has  accused  me  !  " 

Katy  threw  herself  upon  her  husband,  all  shackled  and  dishon- 
ored as  he  was. 

"No,  no,"  Jake  Bosler  spoke;  "te  blood  of  te  President  must 
first  pe  washed  from  his  hands." 

Lloyd  put  back  his  wife  with  gentle  strength. 

"  Katy,  your  father  is  right.  If  that  is  my  boy,  let  him  never 
see  me  again — till  I  am  dead  or  exonerated." 

Lloyd  had  come  home  by  way  of  Harper's  Ferry,  and  his  one 
bad  habit,  following  him  through  the  war,  had  now  brought  him  to 


542  KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 

the  stage  that  he  could  not  drink  without  becoming  drunk.  A 
popular  companion  and  honorable  soldier,  his  song  and  accordion 
had  been  known  through  the  camps,  and  his  counsel  had  always 
been  tranquillizing  and  just,  so  that  many  of  his  army  friends  felt  their 
sense  of  country  and  freedom  return,  until,  when  the  physical  war 
ended,  the  moral  rebellion  was  also  worn  to  a  thin  shell  wherever 
men  were  gentle-natured. 

Put  in  a  military  prison,  Quantrell  was  allowed  to  see  nobody, 
and  his  old  father  said  ; 

"  That  boy  is  not  guilty.  Though  I  shall  not  see  him,  I  know 
that  his  obedience  to  me  and  to  his  poor  cause  never  would  allow 
him  to  be  an  assassin.  I  can  say,  with  Admiral  Penn,  when  they 
thrust  his  son  William  into  a  prison,  '  This  is  the  reward  I  have 
from  the  government  my  services  restored.'  " 

In  another  direction  the  old  man  was  more  successful — to  have 
his  son's  wife  righted  by  the  Roman  Church. 

In  that  body  was  an  historical  passion  to  defend  marriage,  and 
Abel  Quantrell's  wishes  were  sent  to  Rome  itself. 

His  views  had  prevailed  in  the  land,  and  the  indifferent  moral 
assistance  they  had  received  from  a  church  long  identified  with 
slaver}',  created  there  a  greater  desire  to  conciliate  the  powerful 
political  party  of  which  he  was  a  rather  popular  oddity. 

The  candor  and  extremeness  of  his  views,  his  kindness  to  in- 
dividual insurgents  and  his  high  political  influence,  and  also  his 
chivalry  to  women,  for  whose. weakness  he  made  every  allowance, 
created  an  enthusiasm  for  him  among  the  Sisters  of  Charity  and 
poorer  monastic  orders — especially  the  Irish — and  they  worked  upon 
the  higher  clergy  until  a  dispensation,  or  other  species  of  conces- 
sion, was  made,  somewhat  in  these  words : 

"  The  sacrilegious  person  who  presumed  to  administer  the  mar- 
riage ordinance  in  name  of  Holy  Church  may  be  taken  into  orders, 
and  his  ordaining  can  date  from  a  time  anterior  to  his  sin,  pro- 
vided that  he  take  the  vows  of  the  most  rigorous  monastic  life  and 
disappear  from  the  world." 

"  I  like  a  church  that  can  do  anything,"  Abel  Quantrell  said, 
sardonically ;  "  here  the  marriage-ring  is  taken  out  of  solution,  and 
the  circle  squared ;  but  how  are  you  going  to  catch  the  bird,  to  put 
the  salt  on  his  tail  ?  " 

The  Sisters  of  the  Church  resolved  to  have  the  secular  law  pun- 
ish Fenwick  for  personating  a  priest,  if  he  refused  to  be  a  monk. 


THE  RETURN.  543 

That  individual  was,  indeed,  in  deep  waters ;  but  he  put  all  his 
amateur  versatility  in  motion,  and  had  made  himself  a  useful  auxil- 
iary to  the  Government  in  detecting  the  assassins.  The  escaped 
Surratt  had  been  hidden  in  Canada  by  the  mistaken  zeal  of  priests 
there,  who  could  not  see  that  they  were  taking  his  mother's  life,  as 
well  as  violating  the  law  of  nations.  Ultimately,  when  it  was  too 
late  to  save  the  woman,  the  shallow  son  was  tracked  to  Rome,  and 
found  in  the  Papal  Guard,  where  another  American  recruit  from 
Maryland  *  knew  him  and  gave  him  away  for  the  reward,  and  then 
the  Papal  Government  ordered  him  delivered  up. 

The  church  hostility  to  Fenwick,  however,  was  the  greater,  be- 
cause of  his  prying  cognizance  of  certain  family  facts,  in  making 
use  of  which,  for  the  ends  of  justice,  he  was  doing  the  principal 
good  of  his  life.  Nothing  showed  the  legal  and  worldly  incapacity 
of  neophytes  and  priests  more  than  the  behavior  of  both  Fenwick 
and  his  enemies  in  this  matter,  and  proved  that  while  denouncing 
secret  societies  the  Church  forgot  its  own  tendency  that  way. 

Fenwick  had  a  fine  smattering  of  doctrinal  lore  and  the  church 
institutes,  and  he  fought  for  his  life  with  an  adroitness  worthy  of 
those  other  Bohemians,  Huss  or  Jerome,  before  councils  armed  with 
fire. 

The  woman  he  dreaded  and  depended  on,  with  nearly  equal 
anxiety,  was  Hannah  Ritner.  In  the  demoralization  of  his  mind 
between  cunning  and  devoteeism,  self-love  and  superstition,  he  con- 
sulted this  strange  seer,  who  was  worthy  of  being  the  mother  ab- 
bess of  the  whole  nation. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  weary  touch  of  humor  in  her  grand 
face,  and  wrote  him  some  lines,  and  dismissed  him.  He  read  them 
with  a  great  sense  of  fear  in  his  heart ;  for  of  all  things  living  or 
dead,  he  feared  Lloyd  Ouantrell  most : 

"  Little  mousey  in  mishap. 
Choose  the  dog,  or  choose  the  trap  ! 
Death  is  in  the  mastiff's  yell. 
Life's  remaindei  in  the  cell. 
Mice  as  foolish  thou  may'st  tease 
In  the  trap,  and  eat  the  cheese." 

Fenwick  was  taken  to  Nelly  Harbaugh  by  Hannah  Ritner  while 
he  was  in  this  state  of  apprehension,  and  told  to  co-operate  with 


544  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

that  actress,  who  now  was  preparing  for  a  debut  as  a  "  star  "  with 
her  own  company,  and  while  keeping  refuge  in  the  ragged  house 
at  the  edge  of  the  purlieu,  she  discussed  with  him  the  basis  of  a 
social  play,  and  Fenwick  outlined  several  themes.  He  had  no  other 
than  assisting  literary  talents,  while  she,  by  pains  and  application, 
had  ransacked  the  Library  of  Congress  for  foreign  models  of  some 
drama  which  should  display  her  personal  charms. 

Nelly  saw  that  the  hideous  old  pieces  out  of  the  Gunpowder- 
Plot  age — the  butchering  Richards  and  mouthing  Brutuses — had 
survived  their  day  to  end  with  this  murderer,  and  that  the  French 
and  other  Continentals  had  recreated  the  stage  and  made  the  heart's 
woes  and  the  inconsistency  of  human  environment  the  drama  of  the 
present.  Fenwick  was  a  good  literary  milliner,  and  Nelly  was  a 
wonderful  head  and  bust  to  hang  his  subtleties  upon. 

In  the  course  of  their  experiments  they  found  a  topic  near  home, 
so  inspiring  to  them  both,  that  an  interest  of  opposites  kindled  in 
their  natures,  and  while  the  subject  they  mutually  labored  upon  was 
of  Fenwick's  eavesdropping  in  people's  houses,  Nelly  Harbaugh 
saw  in  it  a  chance  to  repay  a  noble  favor  at  the  sacrifice  of  her  own 
idolatry. 

The  Government  had  released  her,  finding  her  clear  at  every 
point  of  compHcity  in  the  President's  murder ;  and  now,  with  her 
stage  name  changed  again,  she  was  prepared  with  a  dry,  seared, 
but  still  ambitious  heart,  to  run  the  actress's  career  and  draw  upon 
mankind  for  her  outfit  and  advertisement. 

Luther  Bosler  entered  one  day,  when  she  was  sitting  among  new 
dresses,  ornaments,  and  properties  for  her  ddbut^  and  he  said  : 

"  Nelly,  joy  and  misfortune  have  come  together.  My  old  Dunker 
brethren  have  made  me  a  preacher  again,  taking  the  view  I  did,  that 
this  war  was  a  sacred  duty ;  but  Lloyd,  my  poor  prodigal  brother, 
is  in  the  toils  of  hard  evidence,  and  my  lady — you  know  it  was  Miss 
Pittson — has  rejected  me  and  offended  Abel  Ouantrell,  and  still  ad- 
heres to  the  subjects  of  her  romantic  sympathy,  Booth,  the  assassin, 
and  Lloyd  Quantrell,  who  is  in  chains." 

While  they  spoke,  the  voices  of  newsboys  in  the  streets  were 
heard  approaching,  roaring  as  they  came  almost  breathless  : 

"  Capture  of  Boot',  de  assassin  !  Capture  of  David  E.  Herold  ! 
Death  of  Wilkes  Boot'  in  Virginia  !     De  '  Evening  Staw  ! '  " 

Nelly  had  started  up,  the  roses  gone  from  her  face,  and  she 
threw  out  her  hands  for  something  to  take  hold  of.  but  only  found 


THE  RETURN. 


545 


the  broad  shoulders  of  General  Bosler,  and  there  she  leaned,  not 
coming  nearer,  while  some  tears  ran  from  her  eyes. 

"Pardon  me,  Luther,"  she  said.  "You  know  what  he  was  to 
me — my  greatest  injurer — but  it  was  in  the  wiles  of  love,  and  for 
my  account  I  pray  God  to  forgive  him." 

"  Live  to  do  mercy,  my  sister ! "  spoke  Luther  with  his  palm 
above  her  golden-yellow  tresses  ;  "  to  set  at  rest  the  misunderstand- 
ings of  other  hearts,  and  to  be  of  the  peace-makers  who  shall  be 
called  the  children  of  God  !  " 

"  I  will,  Luther,  I  will !  I  see  within  my  hands,  let  down  to  me 
from  angels,  the  cords  of  many  compassions,  and  pray  for  me,  O 
brother !  that  I  shall  have  the  wisdom  and  assistance,  even  in  this 
false  art  of  playing  life,  to  set  the  innocent  free,  to  save  the  foolish 
one,  and  let  love  and  not  blood  be  the  law ! " 


At  the  farm  overhanging  the  sunken  road  which  wound  behind 
it,  and  was  screened  by  trees  and  thickets  partly  in  bloom.  Booth 
had  awaited  the  unknown  with  a  broken  heart.  Nobody  in  Port 
Royal  town  would  take  him  in ;  at  his  identity  with  the  assassin — 
which  Herold  had  blabbed — and  at  his  own  showing  of  the  inked 
initials  under  his  skin,  "  J.  W.  B.,"  the  soldier  had  shrunk  away  and 
hid  him,  and  gone  ahead,  not  to  return,  except  with  his  takers. 

Herold,  too,  was  growing  restive  under  his  confinement  to  this 
crippled  outlaw,  and  high  words  had  passed  between  them ;  for 
Booth  was  nearly  destitute,  and  Herold  was  a  hireling  as  well  as  a 
vagrant,  and  now  Booth  could  give  him  neither  adventure  nor  money. 

After  Captain  Jett,  the  Virginian,  had  left  Booth  at  Garrett's 
farm,  Herold  rode  nearly  to  Bowling  Green,  fifteen  miles  away,  with 
the  disbanded  insurgents,  and  the  next  day,  Tuesday,  he  went  quite 
to  Bowling  Green  and  back  ;  and  hardly  had  he  returned,  when  blue- 
clad  cavalry  went  around  the  farm-gate  and  down  into  the  swamp- 
crossing,  and  could  be  seen  filing  up  the  southern  slope,  carbines  all 
ready,  and  their  sabers,  like  sleighing-bells  jingling,  to  kill  the  last 
enemy,  and  go  to  Northern  homes. 

Booth  did  not  know  that  they  were  riding  to  get  Captain  Jett 
and  find  where  he  had  hidden  that  broken -legged  man ;  but  Booth 
did  know  that  the  blue-coats  were  now  south  of  him.  and  Virginia 
unthankful  to  him. 

The  Garretts,  who  owned  the  farm,  became  distrustful  of  their 


546  KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 

two  quarreling  guests,  though  Booth  had  used  all  his  tender  talk 
to  get  their  confidence,  and  played  with  their  child,  and  breathed 
domestic  sentiment.  He  felt  that  he  must  have  lost  his  art  since 
tl)is  blood  had  smeared  him. 

A  neighbor  or  two  dropped  in  and  sounded  the  stranger,  as  he 
lay  out  in  the  yard  under  the  trees,  and  went  away  suspectful.  At 
last  the  men  of  the  family  said  :  "  We  can  not  accommodate  you 
another  night ;  our  house  is  full." 

They  had  no  idea  that  here  were  the  murderers  whose  capture 
would  make  them  rich  ;  but  they  felt  that  something  was  not  honest. 

This  man,  all  armed,  yet  not  in  uniform  ;  this  boy,  so  unworthy 
of  the  man,  and  so  sniveling  and  fugitive  ;  their  inquiry  about  roads 
and  distances,  and  want  of  innocence  or  location — could  they  be 
horse-thieves  } 

"  We  can  sleep  in  the  barn,"  said  Booth.  "  Allow  us  to  go  in 
there !  " 

His  pleading  eyes,  in  which  some  of  the  humility  and  light  of 
childhood  had  returned,  procured  a  wavering  assent ;  but  after  they 
had  entered  the  small  barn,  the  eldest  son  of  Garrett,  considering 
that  they  might  steal  the  horses,  slipped  out  and  locked  them  in. 

They  were  at  last  enjailed ;  but  the  assassin  had  a  repeating 
carbine  and  a  pair  of  pistols,  and  kept  his  tone  of  confidence  up,  to 
Herold,  as  they  made  their  beds  in  the  straw. 

They  would  reach  the  mountains,  and  go  through  Tennessee  to 
the  Gulf,  and  Herold  should  yet  have  rambling. 

Herold  fell  asleep,  but  Booth  would  never  sleep  again  ! 


CHAPTER   L.  ^ 

DEATH   OF    BOOTH, 

There  are  three  crimes  hard  to  excel  in  wickedness :  the  rob- 
bing of  woman  of  her  innocence,  of  a  good  magistrate  of  his  life, 
and  of  a  race  of  brother- men  of  simple,  humble  rights.  All  these 
were  now  to  settle  with  John  Wilkes  Booth. 

Negroes,  of  the  race  he  would  deprive  of  freedom,  informed  upon 
the  disappearance  of  Jones's  boat  in  Maryland,  and  described  two 
armed  and  suspicious  men  adrift. 


DEATH  OF  BOOTH.  547 

The  man  whose  affianced  virgin  Booth  had  taken  away,  General 
Luther  Bosler,  received  upon  the  army  telegraph-wire  from  Chapel 
Point  this  information  in  the  War-Office  at  Washington,  and  he 
drew  down  a  Coast-Survey  chart  and  looked  it  over  with  Secretary 
Stanton.  "  Here  is  the  route  they  must  take,"  said  Luther,  "  through 
King  George  County  to  Port  Royal,  the  usual  route  of  spies.  By 
putting  some  cavalry  on  a  steamboat,  they  can  be  landed  at  Bell 
Plain  and  intercept  the  murderer !  " 

The  great  Secretary,  who  grieved  for  the  good  magistrate,  his 
friend,  replied,  "  Take  that  action  at  once,  and  send  two  of  my  po- 
lice-officers along !  " 

So,  as  Booth  lay  down  in  the  barn,  the  cavalry  had  scoured  the 
country  behind  him  and  gone  past,  receiving  his  description  from 
the  negro  ferryman  at  the  Rappahannock  River. 

Death  is  a  ghastly  presence  at  the  end  of  long  sickness  and  the 
wearing  out  of  nature ;  but  to  him  who  is  well,  robust,  and  super- 
stitious, and  who  has  inflicted  Death's  embrace  upon  another,  and  is 
sneaking  away  from  Nemesis,  Death  is  the  King  of  Terrors.  How 
slight  had  seemed  death-giving  to  this  young  man,  who  preferred 
cruelty  for  his  pastime  ;  but  how  vast  and  inconsolable  was  death- 
taking  to  him,  even  when  life  had  lost  its  meanest  relations ! 

He  forgot  his  burning  foot  in  the  clammy  sweat  of  fear  and  the 
craving  of  the  appalled  heart.  The  barn  seemed  full  of  witnesses, 
the  straws  to  be  musket-barrels,  the  night-sounds  to  be  accusations, 
the  roof  of  the  shamble  to  be  high  as  black  heaven,  and  all  the  in- 
terval the  throne  of  Death  ! 

He  thought  of  each  particular  of  every  pertinent  subject,  and 
still  the  sequel  of  each  would  be  Death.  It  seemed  unreasonable 
that  Death  should  not  allow  any  matter  whatever  to  be  considered 
without  thrusting  in  its  horrible  demand,  and  he  proceeded  softly, 
cunningly,  to  head  off  that  grisly  guardsman  and  get  past,  "  run- 
ning like  a  cat,"  as  he  had  expressed  it,  and  taking  the  by-ways 
of  joy  and  love — thinking  over  his  finest  love-sentence  with  Light 
Pittson,  when  he  stole  her  first  resisting  kiss ;  of  his  soft,  prolonged 
amours  against  the  mountain-maid  ;  of  the  many  humble  subur- 
ban coquettes  entrapped  at  theatres,  and  the  yielding  of  women  of 
station  to  his  untiring  wiles ;  and  still  Death  closed  the  reminis- 
cence and  seemed  to  say,  "  Cold  to  the  bone  forever  is  my  assigna- 
tion, and  neither  audience  nor  applause  will  ever  be  there  !  " 

With  this  fear  of  the  black  fate  was  a  care  and  oppression  he  could 


548  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

not  understand — an  old  man's  feeling,  haunting  him  and  abiding, 
mixed  with  the  dread  little  boys  have  of  being  lost  by  their  parents 
in  great  cities,  or  wandering  far  away  from  home  penniless  and  with- 
out lodging.  Between  the  two — the  old  pauper's  dread  and  the 
child's  desertion — Booth's  anxiety  roved  the  whole  earth,  and  lived 
for  ages  in  those  few  hours. 

Where  were  New  Guinea,  Kamchatka,  Patagonia — and  could 
the  newspapers  go  so  far  and  make  him  known  ?  Where  was 
Crusoe's  Island,  or  the  Florida  of  the  Young  Marooners,  or  the 
pirates'  Isle  of  Pines  ?  He  felt  his  geographical  ignorance,  and,  the 
more,  that  he  had  never  admitted  it  before  in  his  blind,  headstrong 
folly. 

He  also  felt  the  cowardice  which  attends  upon  money  spent  and 
gone. 

Would  he  have  dared  to  kill  the  President  if  Booth  had  always 
been  a  poor,  unprodigal  young  man  ?  Or,  rather,  was  not  his  deadly 
vanity  the  offspring  of  the  fool's  money  and  the  dupe's  gaming? 

He  thought  of  the  dollars  wasted  on  bowie-knives,  revolving 
pistols,  spurs,  pocket-compasses,  horses,  and  livery-men  ;  on  drinks, 
loans,  clothing,  lodging,  fire,  and  concubines  for  the  parcel  of 
tramps  and  roustabouts,  who  were  soon  to  be  paraded,  beside  him- 
self, before  the  fashion  and  society  of  Washington,  like  Falstaff's 
band  with  him,  for  Prince  Hal  in  the  midst.  How  the  officers  of 
the  army  court-martial — men  of  courage  too  well  ingrained  to  be 
conscious  of  it — would  despise  the  skulking  and  treacherous  gypsy 
they  were  to  foul  their  minds  v^'ith  !  He  had  not  even  an  overcoat, 
and  his  bank-book  was  left  in  Atzerodt's  room  with  Herold's  outfit. 

And  all  this  he  had  given  his  mental  dignity  and  powers  to  bring 
about,  unasked,  untempted,  unabused,  in  evil  and  gratuitous  self- 
seeking,  like  the  beaten  politicians  who  had  made  war  upon  the 
Union  from  the  groveling  yet  soaring  spirit  of  the  vulture — to  pick 
the  eyes  and  vitals  from  the  dead  republic,  expecting  to  reproduce 
them  in  that  sable  image  of  the  Prometheus-eating  bird. 

Booth  felt  that  he  was  also  part  of  that  blind  trap,  and  a  statesman 
of  the  thinly  scenic  government  whose  civil  dramatis  personce  were 
now,  like  strolling  players,  wandering  toward  the  Gulf.  Even  State- 
rights  was  a  mockery,  and  the  unavowed  John  Brown  was  more 
the  hero  of  Virginia  than  he  who  had  killed  a  commander-in-chief, 
shouting  the  motto  of  the  State. 

He  groaned  again,  "  Sic  semper  tyrannis  !  " 


DEATH  OF  BOOTH. 


549 


The  circling  furies  in  the  sound  began  to  repeat,  "  Sic — Semper 
— sic — Tyrannis.     At  him,  dogs  !  " 

The  old  barn  echoed  with  the  hissing  sound  of  "  Sic,  sic"  as 
used  to  blood-hounds  on  the  scent,  and  fiery  dogs  went  round  his 
brain,  all  fever-filled,  and  their  eyes  and  teeth  were  gnashing. 

*'  Herold  !  Dave  Herold  !  some  water,  for  God's  sake — I'm  afire  !  " 

The  boy  slept  peacefully,  having,  of  himself,  premeditated  no 
crime. 

Then  the  prediction  of  the  old  Quaker  witch  at  Harper's  Ferry, 
that  he  should  cry  "  Water,  water,  Lord  !  "  came  to  mind.  He  burst 
into  another  chilly  sweat,  between  terror  and  malaria,  to  think  he 
had  already  verified  this  prophecy. 

"  Never  mind,  my  eloquent  young  friend,"  said  the  tall  President, 
sitting  there  in  the  barn  upon  the  straw,  "  don't  mention  your  mis- 
understanding of  me  !  You  know  I  recovered,  and  bear  no  malice. 
Now — that  pretty  piece  from  '  King  John,'  where  Constance  mourns  ! 
Oh,  if  you  had  really  killed  me,  think  of  how  my  wife  and  children 
would  have  cried  !     How  pleasant  to  think  it  was  all  a  mistake  !  " 

"With  faltering  tongue  he  tried  to  match  Shakespearean  passages 
with  his  victim  again,  who  laughed  and  laughed  at  his  discomfiture, 
and  put  out  his  cold,  cold  hand,  and  this  time  it  shot  a  pang  of  chilli- 
ness to  the  outlaw's  heart. 

"  O  mother ! "  he  cried,  "  save  me — oh,  pray  for  me  !  '  Pray  ! 
pray  !  pray  ! '  " 

As  he  stirred  the  straw  he  lay  in,  there  seemed  animal  footsteps 
outside,  and  whispering,  and  then  the  ringing  of  accoutrements.  A 
fear  greater  than  he  could  ever  have  imagined  came  upon  him,  and 
an  oppression  like  the  removal  of  every  living  organ  from  the  in- 
casements  of  the  body. 

"  Dave  !  Dave  ! "  he  whispered,  and  his  hair  seemed  to  stand,  as 
the  noises  proceeded  upon  the  sward.  He  thought  they  might  be 
spirit-sounds,  like  those  the  bandit  Stevens  heard  at  Harper's  Ferry, 
and,  for  an  instant,  was  relieved  to  hear  a  human  voice  speak  aloud 
in  the  night : 

"  To  the  persons  who  are  in  this  barn !  We  call  upon  you  to 
surrender  your  arms  to  the  man  who  will  come  in  for  them.  We 
notify  you  that  you  are  surrounded,  and  had  better  give  up." 

A  neighing  of  horses  came  on  the  night  air,  and  a  sound  like  the 
cocking  of  gun-locks  went  round  the  barn,  from  side  to  side,  from 
end  to  end.     Herold  heard  it,  and  was  up,  with  sniveling  in  his  cry : 


550 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIiW 


"  John,  we're  tuk  !     Le's  "us  give  in.     I  don't  want  to  be  shot !" 

"  Get  down,  you  coward  !     They  may  be  our  friends." 

Booth  had  roused  up,  and  stood  upon  his  crutch,  with  the  car- 
bine in  his  hand.  The  night  was  so  dark  that  the  many  cracks  in 
the  barn  afforded  no  view  of  forms  outside,  now  mysteriously  still, 
as  if  their  fire-arms  were  intently  aiming  at  him.  The  door  was 
next  unlocked,  and  a  man  entered,  saying : 

"  They  were  going  to  hang  father  and  me  if  we  hadn't  told  them 
you  had  gone  to  the  barn.  If  you  don't  come  out,  they'll  burn  our 
property." 

Booth  swore,  while  trembling,  that  he  would  kill  the  man  for  be- 
traying him. 

" 'Tain't  worth  while,"  said  the  son  of  Garrett,  "to  kill  me.  It 
won't  save  you.  If  you  hain't  done  nothing  wrong,  you  can  come 
out  safe." 

Booth  damned  his  soul  in  impotent  profanity,  and  only  the 
greater  fear  of  what  was  coming  restrained  his  hand  from  brutality. 
The  young  man  cowered  and  backed  out  of  the  door,  and  then 
Herold  said : 

"  I  want  to  surrender.     I'm  afraid  !     I  want  to  see  my  sister !  " 

"  Will  you  leave  me,  too  ?  "  cried  Booth — "  the  last  follower  I 
have,  the  last  friend  ?  " 

'•  I'm  a  coward,"  said  Herold.  "You  can  tell  them  I  didn't  kill 
nobody.     Oh,  do,  and  let  me  go  ! " 

Booth  cursed  him  also,  arud  fought  for  a  little  parley  ;  so  precious 
is  life  to  those  who  take  it  from  others  wantonly ! 

He  indulged  the  hope  that  these  might  be  insurgent  soldiery, 
with  his  ignorance  of  news  and  an  obtuseness  of  general  perception 
which  steadily  diminished  his  mental  reputation,  until  his  brain,  at 
last,  seemed  a  mere  glittering  pin-head,  like  one  of  the  beads  sown 
upon  an  actor's  royalty. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  taken  by  my  friends,"  he  shouted,  and  the  inter- 
val seemed  a  year  before  the  cool,  thief-taker's  voice  outside  re- 
plied : 

"  Come  and  see  !  Your  life  will  not  be  taken  by  us  if  you  sur- 
render." 

He  asked  whom  he  was  thought  to  be,  and  another  silence  so 
long  as  if  to  answer,  "  You  are  nameless ;  you  are  nothing ;  you 
are  annihilation  " — was  followed  by  a  dry  response  to  come  out,  or 
take  the  consequences. 


DEATH  OF  BOOTH.  55  I 

There  was  a  cricket,  or  katydid,  or  strong-throated  animal  in 
the  barn,  which  all  the  while  counted  its  accorded  measure  of  pray- 
ers during  this  term  of  agony,  till  the  assassin's  ears  seemed  burst- 
ing ;  but  Herold  hardly  noticed  it,  he  said,  though  hearing  in  the 
distant  night  the  baying  of  coon-hunters'  dogs,  where  the  freedmen 
celebrated  their  deliverance  in  the  rolling  country. 

"  Oh,  let  me  go,  and  say,  John,  I  didn't  kill  the  President,  be- 
fore we  part ;  it'll  save  your  soul,  maybe,  to  let  up  on  me." 

The  assassin  had  already  put  his  hand  around  his  crutch  and 
taken  hold  of  his  revolver,  with  the  action,  rather  than  the  meaning, 
of  killing  himself;  but  at  the  word  "soul"  he  dropped  the  pistol  in 
the  straw  and  shouted  greedily : 

"  There's  a  man  here  who  wants  to  surrender.  Take  him  out ! 
He  is  innocent  of  any  crime." 

Without  saying  good-by,  so  much  was  he  afraid  of  the  enemy 
before  and  behind,  Herold  put  out  his  hands  through  the  door 
opened  for  him,  and  they  were  handcuffed  before  he  stepped  across 
the  sill.  The  two  detective  officers  searched  him  and  then  hand- 
cuffed him  around  a  small  tree  near  by,  and  one  of  them,  disap- 
pointed in  the  small  and  pusillanimous  object  he  had  found,  kicked 
Herold's  posterior  with  an  interjection  of  contempt. 

"  I  don't  know  that  man  in  there,"  sniffled  Herold  ;  "  I  met  him 
on  the  road  by  Port  Tebakker,  and  he  hired  me  to  be  his  nuss,  with 
his  leg  broke." 

"  Here  !  here  !  "  spoke  the  same  unfeeling  voice  beside  the  bam, 
nearly  at  Booth's  side,  yet  shifting,  as  if  the  possessor  had  a  stealthy 
foot,  "  surrender,  or  we'll  burn  you  like  a  rat  in  this  barn  !  If  you 
have  any  gratitude  to  the  man  who  sheltered  you,  save  his  property  ! 
We  are  men  of  business,  and  this  is  your  last  chance." 

A  low  word  of  "  Be  ready  !  "  in  another  voice,  showed  that  the 
death-vise  was  being  screwed  close. 

How  now  to  die  was  Booth's  soul-strained  option — by  suicide, 
fire,  or  in  combat  ? 

The  cricket  sang  indifferent  to  his  ordeal;  the  sounds  of  the 
midnight  hunting  seemed  musical  as  heaven,  and  made  the  world 
stretch  wide  and  dear  to  all  who  could  still  possess  it.  He  alone 
was  to  let  go  of  life,  and  the  muffled  familiars  of  death  seemed  glid- 
ing up  to  him  Hke  sheriffs'  men,  and  from  the  invisible  beams  of  the 
barn  seemed  to  droop  the  hangman's  cord. 

He  rallied  every  desperate  ambition,  and  breathed  a  prayer  to 


552 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


Nature  in  her  generosity  that  he  might  have  the  courage  to  be  a 
soldier  for  one  moment,  as  he  had  never  been,  since  John  Brown's 
time. 

At  the  suggestion  of  John  Brown,  his  wandering  powers  took 
coherence  and  example,  and  he  remembered  the  manner  in  which 
old  Brown  had  faced  his  fate,  and  Booth  tried  to  be  his  pupil. 

"  Captain,"  called  Booth,  assuming  a  hollow,  theatrical  voice, 
"  give  me  a  living  chance :  withdraw  your  men  a  hundred  paces 
from  the  barn,  and  I'll  come  out  and  fight  you !  " 

This  had  been  John  Brown's  request,  when  entrapped  in  his  en- 
gine-house, and  Booth  aspired  to  die  like  Brown. 

He  repeated  the  request,  and  thought  it  quite  unmerciful  that  he 
was  not  accorded  a  little  stage-space  to  die  effectively  in, 

"  We'll  waste  no  more  time,"  the  civil  officer,  without,  spoke  in 
a  tone  of  disgust. 

The  katydid  or  cricket  never  ceased  to  call  its  resounding  beads, 
and  "  Pray,  pray,  pray." 

Booth  searched  the  heavens  and  the  world  for  some  interces- 
sor, and  fetched  from  weakness  his  mother's  name.  By  that  saint 
he  asked  for  fifty  yards  and  for  a  little  more  time. 

Ever}thing  was  refused. 

"  Now,  then,  my  brave  boys,"  he  declaimed,  in  the  tones  of  the 
stage  again,  "  prepare  a  stretcher  for  me  !  " 

"  Stretchers  "  were  the  canvas  biers  to  carry  out  of  battle  wounded 
men.  Booth — assuming  to  the  end — would  appear  to  be  a  veteran 
entitled  to  the  honors  of  war. 

He  raised  his  carbine,  feebly  resolving  to  kill  some  one,  or  to 
fire  it  off,  at  least,  and  as  he  stepped,  on  foot  and  crutch,  toward  the 
center  of  the  barn,  to  be  farthest  from  men's  aiming,  a  friction- 
match  was  scratched  behind  him  as  if  his  broken  bones  had  rasped 
each  other,  and  sent  a  cold  chill  up  his  spine. 

He  turned,  and  saw  the  barn  on  fire ! 

A  lighted  wisp  of  straw,  twisted  by  some  one  without,  had  fallen 
into  loose  hay,  and  some  brush,  piled  against  the  outside  of  the  barn, 
was  also  afire.  The  warm  flame  for  a  single  instant  carried  the  odor 
and  crackle  of  his  father's  log-cabin  to  his  heart,  and  he  shouted,  as 
his  crutch  fell  from  under  his  arm  and  left  him  helpless  : 

"  Captain,  do  it  quick  !     Now  shoot  me  through  the  heart !  " 

The  cricket  ceased  to  sing,  though  everything  besides  came  forth 
in  the  bright  light,  till  what  had  been  the  throne  of  gloom  stood  re- 


DEATH  OF  BOOTH. 


553 


vealed  in  the  blessed  implements  and  yield  of  husbandry,  and  there 
were  wasps  flying  around  their  nests  in  the  roof,  scenting  flame, 
and  in  the  litter  of  the  floor  ran  rats  in  single  file,  all  slyly,  as  from 
a  sinking  ship,  and  one  squealed  as  it  crossed  his  shadow  Hke  an  old 
witch  in  an  incantation  scene. 

The  plow  and  harrow-teeth  took  a  ruddy  gleam  ;  some  swallows 
in  the  timbers  flew  round  and  round,  blinded  by  the  fire,  and  the 
pegs  for  tobacco  and  the  burning  tobacco-leaves  grew  to  be  ferns 
and  scallops  of  gold,  as  they  hung,  like  gilded  scenes  in  spectacles, 
around  the  desperate  man. 

He  had  seen  fires  upon  the  stage  and  helped  to  stamp  them  out, 
and  he  limped  toward  the  greater  flame  near  a  corner ;  but  suddenly 
a  great  tongue  of  fire  licked  him  and  singed  him  as  if  Cerberus  at 
hell's  door  had  fondled  on  him  with  a  furnace-tongue  ! 

Fear  seized  him,  and  he  ran  toward  the  door  on  misfitting  bones 
— the  door  held  open  as  by  some  invisible  angel — and  as  he  ran,  the 
ponderous  beams  and  trees  in  the  structure  seemed  to  fall  upon  his 
skull  and  mash  it  like  an  t^^. 

Booth  next  felt  water  in  his  face,  and  two  men  were  holding  him 
up  and  searching  his  body  and  putting  their  fingers  in  his  brain. 

"  It's  here,"  said  one,  "  right  where  he  shot  the  President,  behind 
the  ear,  and  on  the  same  side,  and  here  it's  come  through  !  " 

In  gagging  torments  he  discerned  before  him  two  men  in  Con- 
federate dress,  all  shown  by  the  light  of  the  burning  barn,  which 
was  reflected  in  the  homestead  porch  he  lay  upon. 

"  Did — he — betray — me  ?  "  sighed  Booth,  pointing  to  one  of 
these,  the  officer  who  had  brought  him  to  the  house. 

He  did  not  hear  the  answer,  but  he  made  it  himself : 

"  Tell — mother — I  thought — I  did — best — rights — a  country — 
till— I  died.     Kill  me  !     Kill  me  !  " 

Herold,  tied  to  the  tree  in  the  little  flat  lawn,  saw  them  turn 
Booth,  to  make  him  comfortable,  and  heard  him  gasp  and  groan, 
and  Herold  shed  the  only  tears. 

Booth  could  not  swallow,  and  his  words  were  measured  like  dew 
in  the  honeysuckle's  cup,  that  drooped  above  his  eyes  and  opened  to 
the  fire. 

He  saw  them,  in  his  paralysis,  hold  up  the  arsenal  of  things  he 
had  carried  so  long — a  great,  fierce  knife,  with  rust  of  blood  upon 
it ;  two  pistols  with  revolving  cylinders  thick  as  his  riven  ankle,  and 
24 


554  JCATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

loaded  in  every  chamber ;  a  seven-shotted  carbine  ;  a  candle-spotted 
pocket  compass  ;  his  diary  full  of  protestations  and  despair,  and  hold- 
ing Light  Pittson's  name  ;  his  pipe  and  scarf-pin,  and  the  likenesses 
of  ladies  ;  and  a  Httle  Catholic  medal.     He  sighed : 

"  Tongue !  " 

The  detective  opened  his  mouth  and  said : 

"  Booth,  no  blood  is  on  your  tongue." 

He  started  at  his  name,  which  seemed  a  century  since  it  had 
been  mentioned,  and  gasped  : 

•'  Hands !  " 

The  officer  raised  his  hand  and  moistened  it  with  a  piece  of  ice, 
and  lifted  it  all  limp  to  Booth's  face.  It  fell  uncontrollable,  like  his 
broken  foot. 

He  feebly  moved  his  eyeballs  through  an  arc  which  swept  all 
nature  and  exhaled  the  closing  words : 

"  Useless — 'sless  ! " 

His  face  now  expressed  the  unseen  agony  for  which  there  was 
no  word,  and  his  cherished  pride  of  strength  pushed  Death  away 
that  mercifully  drew  near  again  and  again,  but  ever  was  repelled  by 
the  flushing  rose  and  pulse  of  life,  till  the  fine  countenance  of  the 
actor  and  athlete  seemed  a  battle-ground  of  wounds  and  spasms, 
growing  hollower  with  each  contention,  and  ready  at  the  cock's 
crow,  like  the  wandering  ghost,  to  fade  into  the  morn. 

A  carbineer  had  killed  him  in  the  bam ;  and,  long  afterward,  was 
found  in  the  ashes  there  the  field-glass  delivered  to  him  at  Surratt's 
— its  leather  case  found  uninjured  in  a  distant  farm-house. 

The  cocks  began  to  crow.  The  morn  awaked  with  sullen  eye. 
A  doctor  had  come,  but  it  was  too  late. 

The  assassin's  body  was  put  into  a  negro's  cart  and  hauled  to 
the  Potomac,  and  on  the  way  the  captors  read  to  the  thrilled  negro's 
ears,  from  Booth's  diary,  such  words  as  these  : 

"  Hunted  like  a  dog  through  swamps  and  woods — wet,  cold,  and 
starving,  with  every  man's  hand  against  me — behold  the  cold  hand 
they  extend  to  me — God  can  not  pardon  me  if  I  have  done  wrong — 
serving  a  degenerate  people — so  ends  all— that  makes  life  sweet 
and  holy — misery  upon  my  family — no  pardon  in  the  heaven  for 
me,  since  man  condemns  me  so — bless  my  mother — the  curse  of 
Cain  upon  me  !  "  * 

*  These  entries  are  to  be  found  beginning  "  Te  amo,''  and  the  first  date 
"Friday,  the  Ides,"  in  Lieutenant-Colonel  Conger's  testimony  in  Surratt's 


EMIGRA  FIT. 


555 


When  the  body  was  brought  to  the  city  of  Washington,  Senator 
Pittson  and  his  daughter  with  others  identified  it. 

There  was  one  great  scar  upon  his  neck,  made  long  before  by  a 
tumor  from  a  pistol-ball  which  had  been  accidentally  shot  into  his 
side,  and  had  worked  its  way  out  to  his  neck,  and  the  tumor  had 
been  torn  open  by  a  jealous  woman  before  healing. 

"  Here,  Light,  my  daughter,"  said  the  senator,  "  is  a  symbol  of 
what  should  turn  you  from  the  spurious  to  the  good  romance.  Old 
shows  and  showmen  try  to  stop  the  world  and  kill  its  real  actors. 
Theatricals  in  government  are  doomed." 

"  Miss  Light,"  said  Luther  Bosler,  drawing  the  beautiful  woman 
from  the  awful  scene,  "  let  us  reflect  that,  perhaps,  in  John  Brown's 
illegal  act  to  do  good,  this  boy.  Booth,  found  his  example ;  and  so 
violence  is  a  poor  ally  of  justice  everywhere.  I  am  a  Dunker  yet,  in 
the  belief  that  peace  is  the  only  good  result  of  war." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  charity  to  that  poor  Absalom,"  said  Light. 
"  I  fear  that  I  have  wronged,  in  you,  a  gentleman," 

"I  am  earnestly  waiting,"  said  Luther,  "  to  forgive  you,  and  with 
all  my  heart !  " 


CHAPTER   LL 

EMIGRAVIT. 


The  judge-advocate,  who  was  to  arraign  the  prisoners  before  a 
court-martial  of  nine  accomplished  officers,  made  up  his  case  in 
advance.  Lloyd  Quantrell  was  brought  from  prison  and  privately 
examined.  The  state  of  public  feeling  made  it  difficult  to  separate 
what  men  imagined  from  what  they  knew ;  but  the  military  attor- 
neys were  the  coolest  of  the  people,  and  the  civil  attorney-general 
had  settled  the  propriety  of  their  jurisdiction. 

"  This  is  a  crime,"  said  the  judge-advocate,  "  which  has  been 
committed  in  the  midst  of  a  great  civil  war,  in  the  capital  of  the 
countiy,  in  the  camp  of  the  commander-in-chief  of  our  armies  ;  and 
if  the  common  law  of  war  can  not  be  enforced  against  criminals  of 
that  character,  then  I  think  such  a  code  is  in  vain  in  the  world." 

trial,  vol.  i,  p.  310.     The  testimony  of  different  persons  naturally  differs  very 
much. 


556  KATY  OF  CATOCriN. 

The  only  excuse  of  moment  for  the  eight  culprits  arraigned,  was 
that  the  court  could  not  have  jurisdiction  ;  and  the  blood  of  the 
President  might  have  smoked  for  justice  in  vain  had  his  slayers 
been  turned  over  to  the  common  courts  of  Washington,  where  the 
virus  of  slavery,  like  a  deadly  alkali,  long  survived  in  the  soil ;  and 
more  than  two  years  afterward  a  jury  failed  to  punish  a  principal  in 
the  conspiracy. 

Ouantrell  had  nearly  abandoned  hope  as  he  saw  the  case  close 
around  him — Booth  dead,  and  Fenwick  testifying  that  he  had  seen 
Lloyd  in  Washington. 

Hannah  Ritner  appeared,  before  the  findings  were  determined, 
and  with  her  came  Lloyd's  wife,  and  Luther  Bosler,  and  all  the 
Pittsons. 

"  What  is  the  power  that  woman  exercises  over  me .''  "  said  Lloyd 
to  his  wife.     "  Has  she  come  here  to  destroy  me  .''  " 

Hannah  had  grown  very  gray,  and,  since  the  death  of  the  Presi- 
dent, her  flesh  and  bearing  were  both  reduced. 

"  I  have  but  one  labor  in  this  life  to  do,"  the  gaunt  and  weary 
woman  said,  "  and  my  strength  is  just  enough  to  finish  it.  It  has 
been  testified  by  General  Bosler  that  this  man  "  (pointing  to  Lloyd) 
"  swore  on  oath  with  Booth  to  revenge  the  South.  He  has  been  a 
Southern  soldier  to  the  last — no  more,  no  less. 

"  Again,  he  visited  Booth  at  Bryantown.  Gentlemen,  I  sent  him 
there,  claiming  to  have  his  father's  commands,  whom  he  so  revered, 
and  here  is  the  letter  he  sent  to  that  father,  which  !  have  never 
shown  to  any  man  before  this  day.  Read  it,  and  behold  with  what 
scorn  he  rejected  the  assassin's  advances  and  discouraged  his  plot ! 

"  There  was  another  vow  this  young  man  made,  and  he  has  kept 
it  in  the  faithfulness  of  hunger  and  love's  temptation— he  made  it 
to  his  father  in  the  bitter  sundering  of  civil  war — never  to  play  the 
spy,  nor  cross  the  lines  of  war.  I  set  one  oath  against  the  other,  and 
they  become  consistent." 

Lloyd's  eyes  were  flowing  as  he  heard  his  father's  name,  and  had 
found  an  advocate  in  this  incomprehensible  being,  who  had  long  ago 
predicted  his  career. 

"  Gentlemen,"  continued  Hannah  Ritner,  "  it  is  of  record  that 
Lloyd  Quantrell  manumitted  his  slaves  ;  and  here  is  the  bill  of  sale 
to  his  father,  that  the  act  might  be  effected.  Would  that  manu- 
mitter  hate  the  President  for  the  act  of  emancipation,  and  desire  to 
have  his  blood  ?  " 


EMIGRAVIT.  557 

"  How  came  she  by  all  my  father's  private  papers  ?  "  asked 
Quantrell  of  himself.     "  Is  she  a  soothsayer  indeed  ?  " 

"  And  still  there  lies  the  charge  that  Mr.  Quantrell  was  in  Wash- 
ington. Twice  his  name  was  given  at  the  bridge.  In  the  first  case 
he  has  no  witness ;  for  Booth,  who  gave  his  name,  in  mean  re- 
venge, can  never  speak  again ;  but  in  the  other  case,  where  the 
companion  of  the  assassin,  on  Good-Friday  night,  passed  for  Major 
Quantrell,  I  read  your  mind,  Mr.  Assistant  Advocate,  and  charge 
that  Herold  has  admitted  already  that  he  gave  the  name  of  Quan- 
trell at  Booth's  direction  !  " 

Something  of  the  old  fire  and  spiritual  frenzy  was  in  her  manner 
now,  and  an  exclamation  of  wonder  and  fear  went  round  the  apart- 
ment when  the  attorney  bowed  his  head,  saying  : 

"  Yes,  Herold  has  relieved  the  prisoner  of  that  charge,  but  Fen- 
wick  saw  him  here." 

"  Call  Fenwick  in  !  "  said  Hannah  Ritner.  "  He  is  confined  in 
this  prison,  and  I  dare  the  prediction  that  he  will  say  he  was  mis- 
taken." 

The  Old  Capitol  Prison  it  was — once  the  seat  of  government 
when  the  British  invader  destroyed  the  Capitol  edifice,  and  from  its 
shades  the  gloomy  spirit  of  Calhoun,  brooding  over  beleaguered 
slavery,  had  floated  away  like  a  soul  upon  the  river  Styx. 

Fenwick  appeared  and  glanced  around  the  room,  and  Lloyd 
Quantrell  rose  and  looked  at  him,  relentless  and  avaricious  of  his 
life  as  some  highwayman,  and  his  port  was  like  the  executioner's. 

"  Look  at  these  letters,  Fenwick,"  said  Hannah  Ritner,  "  and  see 
if  you  identify  the  writer  of  them  in  this  presence  !  " 

She  gave  him  a  bundle,  and  he  turned  them  over  once,  and  be- 
came pale  and  seemed  to  swoon  for  an  instant.  Hannah  Ritner 
took  the  letters  back  and  spoke  : 

"  Give  him  that  Bible  and  cross,  and  let  him  swear  that  Quan- 
trell was  the  man  he  saw  !  " 

Fenwick  took  the  book  and  cast  a  look  of  imploration  on  Han- 
nah Ritner  and  of  terror  upon  Quantrell,  and  faltered  : 

"  I  see  I  was  mistaken.  That  was  not  the  man  I  supposed  to 
be  my  old  friend  Lloyd  Quantrell." 

As  Katy  embraced  her  husband  with  the  rapture  of  relief,  the 
Government's  lawyer  exclaimed : 

"  Mr.  Fenwick,  you  have  barely  saved  yourself.  We  have  been 
looking  for  some  one  to  make  an  example  of  for  perjury,  and  we 


558 


KATY   OF   C A  roc  TIN. 


had  already  obtained  a  clear  alibi  for  Major  Quantrell. — There  re- 
mains, major,  but  one  undisproved  imputation  against  you  :  did  you 
see  the  fugitives,  Booth  and  Herold,  in  Virginia  ?  " 

Quantrell  had  remained  standing,  still  looking  the  speechless 
fury  of  an  injured  friendship  upon  Fenwick. 

"  I  did  see  Booth,"  said  he,  "  and  gave  him  the  commonest  of- 
fices of  mercy.  If  he  had  been  strong,  reckless,  and  my  equal  for 
an  encounter,  I  might  have  treated  him  far  differently ;  but  he  was 
helpless,  disappointed,  so  changed  in  all  the  attributes  of  man,  that 
I  saw  remorse  v/as  working  out  a  penance  worse  than  death,  and 
that  death  also  was  close  before  him.  My  situation  made  me  mor- 
ally weak :  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  and  I  let  my  impulses  decide 
me.  I  thought  of  him  in  better  times,  the  playmate  of  my  childhood 
— and  of  his  mother's  sorrow.  Something  is  due,  gentlemen,  to  our 
weakness  at  the  close  of  such  a  war,  and  the  lingering  tyranny  of 
hospitality  we  may  have  extended,  even  to  those  whose  crime  we 
abhorred ;  and  perhaps  the  great  victim  of  that  crime,  overlooking 
our  exposure  and  temptation,  guided  our  hands  to  mercy,  or  forgave 
the  little  charity  in  which  we  sinned  !  " 

Prompt,  soldierly,  manfully,  as  Quantrell  spoke,  the  justice-seek- 
ers weighed  his  manner  and  his  words,  and  the  plea  he  made  saved 
life  and  captivity  to  many  ;  for  the  Government  was  now  possessed  of 
every  person's  name  and  act  of  abetting,  in  the  course  of  that  long, 
mysterious  crime — the  original  parties  to  the  abduction  plot,  all  of 
whom  were  guilty  of  the  consequences  of  that  beginning  ;  the  shel- 
terers  of  Booth  from  point  to  point,  to  some  of  whom  he  went,  re- 
lying upon  their  implication  in  past  misdeeds  ;  and  some  who  made 
his  cause  their  own. 

It  was  determined  to  let  those  go,  in  time,  who  had  merely  done 
humane  offices  to  the  fugitives,  or  who  had  not  been  active  in  the 
plot.  Captain  Cox.  and  Jones,  who  sold  Booth  his  boat,  and  the 
Brawners  and  Smoots,  who  had  been  leagued  with  Atzerodt  and 
Surratt  to  row  the  captive  President  over  ♦the  river,  escaped  the 
court-martial,  as  did  several  aiders  and  abettors  in  Virginia,  to 
whom  the  assassin  disclosed  his  name,  and  who  had  read  the  pub- 
lic proclamations. 

Yet,  with  low,  abiding  party  malice,  the  kindly  discriminating 
military  men,  who  punished  only  the  grossest  of  those  offenders, 
were  traduced  for  years  ! 

The  judge-advocates  shook  Quantrell's  hand,  and  the  benignity 


EMIGRAVIT  559 

and  greatness  of  the  Government,  as  Lloyd's  palms  thrilled  beneath 
the  grasp  of  soldierly  opponents,  he  felt  like  more  than  pardon— like 
fatherhood. 

"  Never,"  said  he  to  Luther  Bosler,  "  shall  my  father  find  me  sul- 
len to  his  ideas  of  freedom  and  of  nationality  again.  As  I  am  for 
the  Government  now,  I  shall  be  among  those  who  have  ever  been 
for  it,  and  who  look  not  to  the  past." 

In  a  few  days  Quantrell  was  paroled,  but  ordered  not  to  leave 
the  city,  and  Fenwick  was  imprisoned  as  a  slippeiy  witness. 

"  Quantrell,"  said  Hannah  Ritner,  "  I  am  going  to  see  your 
father,  who  is  in  the  mountains,  to  escape  the  heat  of  Baltimore. 
He  is  ver>'  ill,  but  I  trust  you  may  see  him  once  more.  When  you 
are  permitted,  come  to  my  old  cabin,  where  I  read  your  fortunes  by 
the  light  of  a  great  personal  experience.  And  here,  my  children, 
are  letters  taken  from  poor  Fenwick's  trunk,  full  of  the  music  of  the 
turtle-dove." 

When  she  had  gone,  Lloyd  and  Katy  found  every  letter  Lloyd 
had  written  to  his  wife  through  the  long  war  and  separation,  breath- 
ing love  and  devotion  and  brave  trust  in  Heaven  and  time. 

"O  husband,"  said  Katy,  "you  need  but  one  thing  more  to 
wash  your  spirit  white — humility." 

"  Where  can  I  find  it,  my  darling  ?  " 

"Where  I  have  found  my  wedding-ring  again— in  the  water- 
brook  of  my  tears.  Lloyd,  you  must  be  baptized  among  the  Bunk- 
ers, who  are  people  of  peace  and  worldly  rest,  and  have  no  wars 
nor  idle  passions.  Liquor  and  tumult  wait  to  consume  you  in  the 
city.  Come  into  our  mountains  and  be  wrapped  in  their  soft  arms 
of  shelter  and  of  love !  " 

"  Katy,  the  man  who  denied  you  these  letters  of  assurance,  and 
let  you  think  me  all  these  years  a  villain  and  seducer,  ought  not  to 
live." 

"  Hush,  Lloyd  !  he  was  false  to  you— because  he  loved  your 
wife." 

The  pains  ecclesiasticism  was  at  to  make  the  most  of  Abel 
Quantrell's  conversion  and  to  rectify  his  son's  matrimonial  irregu- 
larity, gave  slight  concern  to  Lloyd  and  his  wife,  who  were  well 
understood  to  have  been  mairied  as  legitimately  as  was  usual,  and 
to  have  been  unusually  faithful ;  and  when  it  was  found  that  Katy 
would  be  nobody's  convert,  and  that  Quantrell  would  probably  be- 


560 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


come  a  Dunkard,  the  Church  set  about  ordaining  and  disciplining 
Hugh  Fenwick,  who  was  meek  as  a  sheep. 

There  being  no  strictly  monastic  institution  for  American  men, 
Fenwick's  captivity  lay  between  the  old  novitiate  block  in  Frederick 
City  and  the  convent  at  Georgetown.  Beneath  the  convent  slept  an 
assassin  who  had  once  been  a  soldier  and  a  priest,  and  before  Abra- 
ham Lincoln's  birth  this  person  had  sacrificed  fifty-two  human  lives 
by  an  infernal  machine  he  exploded,  to  kill  First-Consul  Napoleon 
Bonaparte.  Escaping  to  America,  he  was  used  awhile,  with  his  aris- 
tocratic notions,  to  put  down  "  usurpations  of  the  laity,"  *  and  final- 
ly he  died  director  of  the  Georgetown  convent. 

At  this  Limoelan's  tomb,  in  the  middle  of  the  Sisters'  vault, 
where  politics  lay  dead  amid  disappointed  love  or  immolated  sensi- 
bility, Lloyd  Ouantrell  and  his  wife  were  led  to  witness  the  penance 
and  hear  the  confession  of  Father  Fenwick  at  last. 

It  distressed  them  both  to  see  the  plight  of  this  overtaken  fox  as 
he  paraded  in  the  gloomy  place  with  sandals  on  his  feet,  in  a  long 
shirt,  with  a  shaved  head,  and  carr}'ing  a  ponderous  candle. 

"  Katy,"  said  the  monk,  "the  fasting  and  the  tasks  I  must  do 
for  the  remainder  of  my  days,  will  not  be  hard  compared  to  the 
pain  of  losing  you  forever  ;  and  I  can  not  blame  my  imperfect  nature 
that,  having  drunk  once  at  the  wells  of  your  soft  eyes,  I  should  have 
been  always  athirst  to  see  my  image  reflected  there.  But  your  hus- 
band was  my  friend,  and  the  injury  I  did  to  him  will  weigh  upon  my 
soul  in  the  solitude  of  my  cell,  unless  he  fully  forgives  me  and  takes 
my  hand." 

"  Take  it,  Lloyd,"  said  Katy.  "  He  always  was  respectful  to  me, 
and  was  the  best  of  teachers.  We  are  blessed  so  much  that  we  can 
not  hate  anybody." 

"  Fenwick."  said  Lloyd  Ouantrell,  "  I  fear  if  we  had  met  else- 
where than  in  these  mysterious  shades,  I  should  have  given  you  my 
hand  in  more  than  cordiality.  But  since  the  world  is  to  close  upon 
you,  my  spirit  shall  not  stay  here  to  give  you  any  trouble.  I  tempted 
you,  being  myself  under  love's  sore  temptation,  and  I  ask  you  to  for- 
give me  for  the  infliction  our  clandestine  marriage  has  brought 
upon  you." 

"  Do  you  forgive  me  unreservedly,  Lloyd  ?  " 

"  Without  reserve.  If  we  ever  meet  in  this  world,  it  shall  not  be 
as  enemies." 

*  De  Courcy's  "  History  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  the  United  States." 


EMICRA  VIT. 


561 


As  the  receding  footsteps  of  the  happy  pair  were  lost  on  Fen- 
wick's  ear,  he  murmured  to  himself : 

"  I  feared  that  live  fellow  more  than  all  these  unmuscular  ghosts. 
Since  he  is  no  longer  dangerous,  I'll  make  my  way  to  Nelly's  soon, 
and  she  has  promised  to  marry  me.     How  true  it  is  that — 

'  When  the  devil  was  sick,  the  devil  a  monk  would  be  ; 
When  the  devil  got  well,  the  devil  a  monk  was  he  ! '  " 

As  Lloyd  Ouantrell  reached  the  city,  the  drums  of  the  two  great 
disbanding  armies  of  the  Union  thrilled  his  ears.  For  two  days  they 
had  been  passing  in  procession  before  the  President's  house,  and  he 
looked  with  astonishment  at  the  resources  of  the  state,  unending,  it 
almost  seemed,  Hke  the  corn-fields  of  the  New  World.  More  than 
one  million  men  were  marching  back  to  private  life,  and,  alas !  of 
fellow-countrymen,  more  than  half  a  million  had  lost  their  lives,  and, 
last  of  all,  the  magistrate  of  all. 

General  Bosler  called  to  Lloyd  that  they  would  go  to  the  theatre 
that  night  and  see  Nelly  Harbaugh  bring  out  her  new  piece.  A 
private  box  just  accommodated  the  Pittson  family  of  three,  and 
Luther,  Lloyd,  and  Katy. 

"  I  have  never  before  been  in  a  theatre,"  said  Luther,  "but  this 
poor  girl  needs  our  assistance,  and  presented  me  with  this  box." 

Lloyd  thought  there  was  an  appearance  of  constraint  on  Mrs. 
Pittson's  face ;  for  he  had  no  knowledge  of  the  close  ties  which 
bound  him  to  the  senator,  and  these  had  embarrassed  Mrs.  Pittson 
from  the  instant  when  her  daughter  met  Lloyd  at  Harper's  Ferry. 

As  Light  and  Katy  sat  together  at  the  front  of  the  box,  with 
their  contrasts  of  bright  and  night,  many  a  returned  veteran  of  the 
war  looked  at  them  in  almost  trembling  homage,  as  the  wonders  of 
a  beauty  perfected  during  the  war.  Light  was  still  excited  on  the 
painful  subject  of  her  father's  parentage ;  but  its  discovery  had  done 
much  to  bring  domestic  humility  to  her  heart,  and  this  night  she 
was  to  relinquish  or  accept  Luther  Bosler,  who  had  arranged  to  settle 
in  Kansas  with  other  Dunker  emigrants,  and  to  take  Jake  his  father 
along — the  old  place  having  been  sold  to  Katy,  who  was  to  live  in 
Catoctin  Valley  with  her  husband. 

The  curtain  rose  upon  a  school  scene  in  the  old  Dutch  country, 
and  Nelly  Harbaugh  was  a  pupil.  The  teacher,  a  lame  youth,  full  of 
animal  hfe  and  with  beauty  in  spite  of  his  lameness,  betrays  a  rough 
favor  for  this  pupil,  who  weaves  around  his  strength  and  suscepti- 


562 


KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 


bility  the  coquetries  of  love  and  willfulness  ;  and  with  some  humor- 
ous display  of  German  habits  and  patois  the  girl  is  ordered  to  be 
"  kept  in  "  after  school  and  set  to  a  task,  for  punishment.  When 
all  the  lads  and  maidens  go,  and  the  teacher  is  alone  with  his  tor- 
mentor, he  asks  why  he  is  persecuted,  and  betrays  the  deep  feelings 
of  his  heart,  and  avows  the  love  she  has  fully  understood.  But  he  is 
poor,  hated  as  a  Yankee  trespasser,  an  abolitionist,  and  worse  than 
infidel.  His  loneliness,  however,  has  been  his  greatest  charm  to 
her ;  for  he  is  loved  through  pity. 

While  they  all  praised  the  acting,  and  felt  the  native  inspiration 
in  the  tale,  the  curtain  rose  upon  the  teacher's  home  in  the  Green 
hills  of  Vermont :  a  little  mother,  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from 
her  large  brood,  sewing  shoes  for  livelihood,  and  the  flour  gone  in 
the  barrel.  Poverty  and  struggle  are  revealed,  and  nothing  is  left 
but  one  son,  whose  education  has  taken  the  last  cent  of  the  patri- 
mony, and  whose  pittance  as  a  teacher  is  the  widow's  stay.  And 
now  this  son  has  felt  the  pangs  of  love  himself,  and  would  be  mar- 
ried where  there  is  family  pride  and  high  connections,  but  no  for- 
tune. The  teacher  has  sent  his  favorite  pupil  to  his  mother,  and 
at  the  widow's  tale  of  woe  and  ceaseless  dependence  the  pitying 
maid  resigns  her  hopes,  and  hears  the  widow's  gratitude. 

"  Why,  this  is  the  tale  my  father  has  often  told  me  of  his  own 
life,"  said  Lloyd.  "  How  beautiful  is  Nelly  in  her  dark  wig  and 
false  tresses,  and  I  seem  to  be  reading  a  story  I  already  know ! " 

He  looked  at  Light  Pittson,  «nd  saw  her  face  full  of  emotion,  as 
she  said : 

"  There  is  surely  romance  here,  and,  Lloyd,  it  concerns  us 
both." 

Now  the  scene  showed  the  teacher  discharged  and  in  a  bare  law- 
office,  desperate  for  occupation,  but  deeper  hurt  in  love's  involve- 
ments ;  for  his  pupil  is  promised  by  her  guardian  to  a  man  of  rising 
station  who  is  to  be  the  Governor  of  a  new  American  Territory,  and 
has  already  gone  there  to  prepare  her  home.  His  absence  is  pro- 
longed, and  love  re-enters  the  hearts  of  the  twain  behind  him.  A 
strong,  remorseless,  mighty  power  impels  the  lover  to  demand  what 
nature  ever  would  concede  him — the  possession  of  his  idol ;  and  in 
his  burning  zeal  her  weakness  melts  like  wax. 

The  actress  and  the  man  played  passion  to  the  life,  as  only  in 
rare,  dauntless  breasts  its  fires  burn  and  heave ;  and  when  the  tardy 
lover  comes,  he  finds — his  rival's  child. 


EMIGRA  VI T.  563 

The  father  offers  the  amends  of  honor  and  the  marriage  rite,  but 
is  refused  by  his  lady,  because  there  are  hungrier  mouths  to  feed  at 
his  mother's  hearth. 

In  admiration  of  the  woman's  spirit,  the  rival  becomes  her  gal- 
lant friend,  and  asks  the  gift  of  her  child  as  the  solace  of  his  West- 
ern home. 

The  scene  where  the  parents  relinquish  to  the  behests  of  society 
the  ofTspring  of  their  passion,  touched  multitudes  to  tears,  and  Nelly 
was  called  before  the  curtain  and  made  the  heroine  of  the  city. 

"  Lloyd,"  said  Luther  Bosler,  gravely,  "  could  any  heart  be  so 
hard  as  to  impute  evil  to  that  little  child  }  " 

"  None  but  a  coward's,"  Lloyd  replied. 

He  looked  at  Edgar  Pittson,  who  smiled  at  all  this  tale,  as  one  of 
life's  kindly  trifles. 

The  last  scene  of  the  play  shows  that  fortune  has  turned  in  the 
lame  lover's  favor,  and  he  has  secured  clients,  following,  and  gold, 
and  seeks  the  image  he  had  worshiped,  to  become  the  companion  of 
his  maturity. 

She  has  made  for  her  penance  austerity,  and  exposure  for  philan- 
thropy's sake,  and  taken  vows  to  Heaven  holier  than  enthusiasm's ; 
and  she  haunts  the  wilderness  of  the  hills. 

He  is  a  man,  and  the  social  instincts  draw  him  hard ;  and  so, 
while  the  music  of  a  lighted  church  woos  him  to  his  bridal  with 
another,  the  lady  of  his  youth  stands  in  the  winter  snows  outside, 
resigning  him  in  the  extremest  woe  of  expiation. 

"  What  is  this  tale  ?  "  Lloyd  Quantrell  whispered  ;  "  it  seems  to 
me  I  know  that  teacher,  and  that  suffering  woman,  too." 

"  Lloyd,"  said  Nelly  Harbaugh,  to  whom  they  had  gone,  in  her 
dressing-room,  to  give  her  congratulations,  "  I  chose  that  part  to 
play,  because  none  could  render  it  by  deeper  experience  than  mine ; 
and  I  also  heard  there  was  an  old  misunderstanding  in  your  father's 
life,  hard  to  be  explained  and  better  to  be  represented.  Do  you 
understand  it  now  ?  " 

"  I  ?  Why,  I  thought  I  felt  my  father  through  it  all.  That  wom- 
an, then,  who  suffered  all  too  nobly — she  was  who  ?  " 

"  Lloyd,  I  think  it  was  meant  for  my  mother,"  Edgar  Pittson 
said,  without  the  least  excitement  of  manner.  "  The  old  were  once 
young,  and  romance  blazed  in  their  lives  and  made  fantastic  shad- 
ows and  similitudes,  such  as  they  see  who  live  by  country  hearths 
and  stir  the  embers  to  an  occasional  glow.     I  was  the  child  they 


564 


KATY  OF   CATOCTIN. 


parted  from.  Your  father  was  my  father  also ;  and  now,  I  hope, 
your  German  brother  will  be  my  son." 

He  looked  where  Luther  Bosler  stretched  his  hand  to  Light 
Pittson,  and  saw  the  roses  climb  to  her  cheeks  as  she  accepted  it, 
and  Katy  kissed  her  fondly. 

"  Lloyd,"  said  Light,  "  do  you  remember  when  you  kissed  me  in 
the  train  that  night  at  Harper's  Ferry  }  Something  purer  than  love 
made  you  do  it — the  romance  of  old  times  flowing  in  our  related 
veins.  I  want  you  to  kiss  me  again  ;  and  to  kiss  my  mother's  dread 
of  you  away,  also." 

"  I  am  all  confused  again,"  said  Lloyd,  tenderly  kissing  all  the 
ladies,  and  his  wife  at  last.    "  How  came  this  play  to  be  made  }  " 

"  Why,"  said  Edgar  Pittson,  "  I  found  that  Jesuitical  fellow,  Fen- 
wick,  knew  something  of  it,  and  I  freely  told  him  the  rest,  and  I  sup- 
pose he  made  the  piece  for  Nelly." 

"  Don't  abuse  him,"  cried  Nelly  Harbaugh.  "  I  am  to  try  the 
remainder  of  life  with  him,  and  he  will  have  enough  lies  to  tell,  as 
my  husband  and  traveling  agent,  to  keep  me  well  advertised." 

"  But  the  lady  who  is  your  mother,  brother  Edgar,"  said  Lloyd, 
"  do  I  know  her  ?  " 

"Thank  God,  she  still  lives,"  spoke  the  senator,  in  fervent  re- 
spect, "  and  is  at  this  moment  with  your  father !  Lloyd,  she  has 
fulfilled  a  mother's  part  with  you,  and  is  worthy  of  your  tenderest 
care.  She  has  genius,  that  may  have  been  developed  by  her  misfor- 
tune into  nearly  double  sight,  and  a  heart  as  loving  as  universal  hu- 
manity." 

"  I  have  not  wandered  from  my  father's  house  for  years,"  said 
Lloyd,  "  to  return  with  mean  uncharity.  Now  I  can  see,  in  his 
wounded  heart,  the  reasons  for  his  suffering,  and  his  spirit  of  resist- 
ance to  all  forms  of  oppression.  I  might,  also,  have  returned  and 
found  Katy  another's,  or  been  parted  from  her  by  my  own  error — 
and  even  she  has  been  pointed  at,  with  all  her  purity,  as  one  wooed 
and  flung  aside.  He  who  gave  me  the  precious  gift  of  life  trans- 
mitted his  warm  affections  to  me  also,  and  I  long  to  throw  myself 
at  my  father's  feet  and  assure  him  that  nothing  in  his  youth  could 
keep  me  from  honoring  him  forever." 

"  That  has  been  my  feeling,  Lloyd,"  said  Edgar  Pittson,  "  and  in 
honoring  our  parents  we  are  promised  long  life  in  our  land.  Our 
father's  apparent  preference  for  me  over  you  was  another  proof  of 
his  generous  nature,  for  he  thought  you  possessed  the  greater  share 


EMIGRA  VI T. 


565 


of  worldly  acknowledgment.  There  are  men  who  hate  the  offspring 
of  their  mistakes  and  banish  them  to  unaccredited  obscurity,  but  I 
have  possessed  my  father's  love  and  given  him  all  my  confidence, 
and  I  have  worked  in  his  heart  an  equal  love  for  you,  my  brother. 
Your  wife  has  been  his  daughter,  and  is  possessed  of  half  his  estate. 
Thus  religion  can  be  brought  out  of  what  might  have  been  dishonor, 
if  we  had  let  nature  be  our  shame.  I  have  used  the  disadvantage  of 
my  birth  to  incline  my  heart  toward  other  willful  or  weak  fellow- 
creatures,  and  make  the  allowances  of  charity  for  them,  and  a  faith 
that  is  never  ashamed  goes  with  me  ;  and  when  you  took  your  side, 
Lloyd,  with  the  slave  States,  in  arms,  I  gave  you  my  sympathy,  all 
the  more,  that  I  felt  you  were  in  error ;  and  I  knew,  if  your  life  was 
spared,  that  you  would  come  back  to  your  father's  house  a  noble 
man." 

As  these  tones  of  strength  and  gentleness  came  down  like  a 
shower  in  sunshine,  and  love  looked  out  at  Lloyd  from  every  eye, 
he  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not.  His  tongue  grew  thick,  and  a  sob 
came  up  from  his  deep  chest  that  moved  all  to  tears. 

"  Let  me  sit  awhile  alone  here,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  I  want  to  cry  a 
little." 

They  kissed  his  forehead,  one  after  another,  and  stole  away. 

And  there,  as  in  the  theatres,  where  the  apostles  preached  of 
old  in  the  colonies  of  the  Greeks,  the  spirit  of  conversion  came  upon 
Lloyd  Quantrell ;  the  birth  of  peace  in  his  soul,  and  the  alighting  of 
the  heavenly  dove. 

A  religious  instinct,  derived  from  his  mother,  took  root  in  his  con- 
trite heart  like  a  rose-bush,  and  her  prayers  were  answered  as  by  the 
singing  of  a  bird  from  its  thorns.  The  desires  of  duty  and  of  rest 
overcame  him,  and  he  went  out  changed,  like  the  bright  spirit  that 
was  seen  going  from  the  fiery  furnace  of  Nebuchadnezzar. 


It  was  a  Sunday  laden  with  blossoms  and  dove-warblings  when 
Quantrell  sat  again  in  the  old  Dunker  meeting  under  the  azure  bar 
of  the  South  Mountain,  and  heard  Luther  speak  the  gospel  of  peace 
and  forgiveness. 

Lloyd  thought  how  he  had  been  spared  where  so  many  fell — 
some  by  the  sword,  and  some  by  the  fiesh  ;  some  by  their  weakness, 
and  some  by  their  strength  ;  some  shipwrecked  upon  the  world ;  some 


566  KATY  OF  CATOCTIN. 

brought  home,  like  the  ark  of  Noah,  to  the  mountain-tops ;  and  the 
soft,  illimitable  bar  of  the  mountain  gave  him  rest  to  look  upon  it 
as  if  it  were  the  rainbow  of  God's  covenant  brought  down  to  be  his 
barrier  against  the  consuming  fires  of  human  rage. 

As  he  walked  toward  the  flowing  stream  to  kneel  and  be  dipped 
into  the  Pietist  brotherhood,  Katy  looked  at  him  with  the  sense  of 
an  old  belief  now  assured,  and  Jake  Bosler  murmured : 

"  Nefer  mind  ! — Bi'm-by  is  come,  Katy  !  " 

Then  they  went  on  to  the  inclination  of  the  mountain,  wh'ere 
Smoketown  stood  like  something  lost  and  sprinkled  along  the  high- 
way. The  jaws  of  the  sundered  hillocks  drank  them  in,  and  the 
witch's  wild  lawn  stood  in  rank  strength  and  flower,  around  her  lit- 
tle cabin,  while  the  clear  torrent  gurgled  around  the  fruit-tree  roots, 
and  near  the  door  two  doves  were  sitting  side  by  side  on  an  apple- 
bough,  and  in  a  low  tone  were  saying  : 

"  Coo-roo  ! — ah,  coo-roo  !  " 

"  Go  in,  my  brother,"  Edgar  Pittson  said  ;  "  your  father  is  ex- 
pecting you.     Tread  lightly,  for  he  is  very  low  to-day  !  " 

There,  in  the  little  home 'the  lonely  woman  had  kept  so  many 
years  in  danger  and  the  terror  of  bad  laws,  sat  Hannah  Ritner  beside 
a  bed  lighted  round  by  tapers ;  and  on  the  bed  was  a  face  closed  in 
a  smile  of  plaintive  obduracy,  as  if  regarding  the  ceremonial  of  his 
death  indulgently,  because  women  had  pleased  to  arrange  it. 

*'  We  have  taken  him  into  holy  church,  and  sprinkled  him  with 
holy-water,"  said  one  of  the  nurts  of  Emmitsburg. 

"  Father,"  Lloyd  whispered,  bending  to  kiss  the  sleeper ;  but  the 
coldness  of  the  lips  made  him  start. — "  O  Edgar,"  he  cried,  "  come 
here  !  " 

The  elder  son  entered  and  touched  the  old  man's  brow. 

"  Lloyd,  we  are  equals  now.     We  have  no  father." 

"  I  thank  God,  Edgar,  that  the  blood  I  saw  on  his  face  when  we 
parted,  is  there  no  more.  He  told  me  we  should  never  meet  again  ; 
but  I  know  there  is  a  land  where  all  tears  are  wiped  away.  And 
now,  where  is  our  mother — she  who  suffered  with  him  all  those 
years  ?  " 

"  Here,  friends,"  spoke  Luther  Bosler,  "  and  she  has  not  sur- 
vived him  long.  See !  she  is  not  yet  cold.  The  last  poor  fugitive 
to  take  shelter  in  her  cabin,  has  passed  on  with  her.  No  blood- 
hounds can  follow  them." 

Lloyd  and  his  wife  knelt  down  at  Hannah  Ritner's  feet,  and  still 


EMIGRA  VI T. 


567 


the  turtles  at  the  door  were  heard  to  murmur  together,  as  she  had 
foretold. 

"  Pray  !  "  said  Edgar  Pittson  to  his  new  son. 

Luther  raised  his  hands  above  the  aged  sister  of  the  Magdalen, 
and  spoke  what  came  upon  his  lips  : 

"  Thou  shalt  be  called  by  a  new  name,  which  the  mouth  of  the 
Lord  shall  name.  Thou  shalt  no  more  be  termed  Forsaken  ;  neither 
shall  thy  land  any  more  be  termed  Desolate ;  but  thou  shalt  be 
called  Hephzi-bah,  and  thy  land  Beulah  :  for  the  Lord  delighteth  in 
thee,  and  thy  land  shall  be  married.  For  as  a  young  man  marrieth 
a  virgin,  so  shall  thy  sons  marry  thee." 


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Dora.     Illustrated. 
8vo,  paper,  $1.00;  cloth, 


JULIA   KAVANAGH. 

Rachel  Grey. 

Seven  Years  and  other  Tales. 
Sybil's  Second  Love. 
Queen  Mab. 
John  Dorrien. 
The  Two  Lilies. 
[.25  each,  or  12  volumes  in  a  box,  $15.00. 

I  Silvia. 
$1.50.  I      8vo,  paper,  75  cents. 

Bessie. 
8vo,  paper,  75  cents. 


HENRY  F.    KEENAN. 
The  Aliens. 
i2mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 


NATHAN   C.   KOUNS, 
Arius  the  Libyan. 
i2mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 


NEW  AND   STANDARD   FICTION   {continued). 


J.   SHERIDAN    LE   FANU, 
Author  of  "  Uncle  Silas." 
The  Bird  of  Passage. 
iSmo,  paper,  25  cents. 


LE  SAGE. 
Adventures  0/  Gil  Bias.     Illustrated. 
8vo,  cloth,  $2.00. 


RUDOLPH    LINDAU. 

Gordon  Baldwin,  and  The  Philosopher's  Pendulum. 

i8mo,  paper,  25  cents. 

Liquidated,  and    The  Seer. 

i8mo,  paper,  25  cents. 


ETHEL  LYNN   LINTON. 
Misericordia. 

iSmo,  paper,  20  cents. 


EDNA   LYALL. 
Donovan.  \ 

Won  by  Waiting. 
i2mo,  cloth,  $1.50  each 


PRINCE   LUBOMIRSKI. 
Safar-Hadgi. 

i6mo,  paper,  25  cents ;  cloth.  60  cts. 

We  Two. 


Aunt  Kitty's  Tales. 

Charms  and  Counter-Charms. 

Two  Pictures. 


MARIA  J.   McINTOSH. 

Evenings  at  Donaldson  Manor. 

Two  Lives. 

The  Lofty  and  Lowly. 


6  volumes,  i2mo,  cloth,  $1.00  each,  or  per  set  in  box,  cloth,  $6.00, 


KATHARINE   S.    MACQUOID, 
The  Fisherman  of  Auge.  I  My  Story. 

iSmo,  paper,  20  cents.  |      Svo,  paper,  $1.00. 


Colonel  Enderb/s  Wife. 
i2mo,  paper,  50  cents. 


LUCAS    MALET. 

I  Mrs.  Larimer. 

I      i6mo,  paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $i.i-o. 


CAPTAIN   MARRYAT,  R,  N. 

Midshipman  Easy. 


Peter  Simple. 

Jacob  Faithful.  Pacha 'of  Many  Tales. 

Naval  Officer.  The  Phantom  Ship. 

King's  Own.  Snarleyow. 

Japhet  in  Search  of  a  Father.  Percival  Keene. 

Newton  Forster. 

i2mo,  paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.25  ;  or,  per  set  in  box,  cloth,  $15.00. 


The  Poison  of  Asps. 
Svo,  paper,  30  cents. 


Cherry  Pipe. 
Svo,  paper,  30  cents. 


FLORENCE    MARRYAT. 
I  No  Intentions. 
I      Svo,  paper,  75  cents. 
My  Own  Child. 
Svo,  paper,  75  cents. 


HELEN   B.    MATHERS. 

I  Com  in'  thro'  the  Rye. 
I      Svo,  paper,  30  cents. 


NEW   AND   STANDARD   FICTION   {continued). 


G.  J. 


Good  for  Nothing. 
Sarchedon. 
The  Gladiators. 
8vo,  paper,  60  cents  each. 


WHYTE-M  ELVI LLE. 
Cerise. 

The  Brookes  of  Bridlemere, 
White  Rose. 
Uncle  John. 
i2rao,  cloth,  $1.25  each. 


LOUISA   MUHLBACH. 


Napoleon  and  the  Queen  of  Prussia. 
Illustrated. 

The  Empress  Josephine.     Illustrated. 

Napoleon  and  Blucher.     Illustrated. 

Queen  Hor tense.     Illustrated. 

Marie  Antoinette  and  her  Son.     Illus- 
trated. 

Prince  Eugene  and  his  Times.     Illus- 
trated. 

The  Daughter  of  an  Empress. 
trated. 

Joseph  II  and  his  Court.     Illustrated. 

Frederick  the  Great  and  his  Court.  Il- 
lustrated. 

8vo,  each  volume,  cloth,  $1.00 ; 
sold  by  set 


Illus- 


Frederick  the  Great  and  his  Family. 
Illustrated. 

Berlin  and  Sans-Souci.     Illustrated. 

Goethe  and  Schiller.     Illustrated. 

Merchant  of  Berlin,  and  Maria  The- 
resa atid  her  Fireman. 

Louisa  of  Prussia  and  her  Times.    Il- 
lustrated. 

Old  Fritz  and  the  New  Era.     Illus- 
trated. 

Andreas  Hofer.     Illustrated. 

Mohammed  Ali  and  his  House.     Illus- 
trated. 

Henry  VIII  and  Catherine  Parr.    111. 
or  bound  complete  in  6  volumes, 
only,  $12.00. 


MRS.   OLIPHANT. 
The  Three  Brothers. 
8vo,  paper,  $1.00. 


JAMES  PAYN. 
Fallen  Fortunes. 
8vo,  paper,  75  cents. 


EDMUND   PENDLETON. 

A  Conventional  Bohemian. 

i2mo,  paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.25. 


ADMIRAL   DAVID   D.    PORTER. 


Allan  Dare  and  Robert  le  Diable.    Il- 
lustrated. 
2  volumes,  Svo,  paper,  $2  ;  cloth,  $3. 


Adventures  of  Harry  Marline. 
trated. 
Svo,  paper,  $1.00;  cloth,  $1.50. 


lUus- 


BARNET   PHILLIPS. 
A  Struggle. 

i6mo,  paper,  25  cents. 


JANE   PORTER. 
The  Scottish  Chiefs.     Illustrated. 
Svo,  doth,  $2.50. 


GEORGE   L.   RAYMOND. 

Modern  Fishers  of  Men. 
i2mo,  paper,  25  cents. 


Peg  Woffington. 

iSmo,  paper,  30  cents  ;  cloth,  60  cts 


CHARLES   READE. 

Christie  Johnstone. 


iSmo,  paper,  30  cents. 


NEW  AND    STANDARD    FICTION    {continued). 


CHRISTIAN   REID. 

Nina's  Atonement,  and  other  Stories. 
A  Daughter  of  Bohemia. 
Bonny  Kate. 
After  Many  Days. 
8vo,  paper,  75  cents  each  ;  cloth,  $1.25  each. 


Valerie  Ayhner. 
Morton  House. 
Mabel  Lee. 
Ebb- Tide. 


The  Land  of  the  Sky. 

8vo,  paper,  75  cents ;  cloth,  $1.00. 
Hearts  and  Hands. 
A  Gentle  Belle. 

8vo,  paper,  50  cents  each. 
A  Question  of  Honor. 


Heart  of  Steel. 
Roslyn's  Fortune. 

i2mo,  cloth,  $1.25  each. 
A  Stamner  Jdyl. 

iSmo,    paper,   30    cents;    cloth, 
cents. 


MADAME  C. 

The  Goldsmith's  Wife.  I 
Uficle  Cesar. 

iSmo,  paper,  25  cents  each.  | 


REYBAUD. 
A  Thorough  Bohemienne. 

i8mo,    paper,    30    cents; 

cents. 


cloth,    60 


GEORGE    SAND. 

The  Tower  of  Percemont. 

i6mo,  paper,  25  cents  ;  cloth,  60  cents. 


WALTER  SCOTT. 


Black's  Library  Edition. 
25  volumes,  8vo,  half  calf,  $125.00. 


Waverley  Novels.  Complete  in  6 
vols.  Illustrated.  Per  set,  cloth, 
$10  ;  sheep,  $15  ;  half  calf,  $20. 


Cheap  Popular  Edition,  in  25  volumes. 


Waverley. 

Jvanhoe. 

Kenilworth. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Antiquary. 

Rob  Roy. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Black  Dwarf,  and 

Montrose. 
Bride  of  Lammer^noor. 
Heart  of  Mid-Lothian. 
The  Monastery. 
The  Abbot. 


The  Pirate. 
Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Quentin  Durward. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Redgauntlet. 

The  Betrothed,  and  Highland  Widow. 
A  Legend  of     The  Talisman. 
Woodstock. 

Fair  MaM  of  Perth. 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
Paper,  25  cents  each. 


Amy  Herbert. 

Cleve  Hall. 

The  EarTs  Daughter. 

Experience  of  Life. 

Gertrude. 


ELIZABETH   M.   SEWELL. 

Ivors.  A  Story  of  English  Country  Life.      . 

Katharine  Ashton.  . 

Margaret  Percival,  ^ 

Ursula. 

Lanelon  Parsonage, 


i2mo,  cloth,  $1.00  each  ;  per  set  in  box,  $10.00 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 


Wilmer 
1082 


